This Christmas, two worlds collide

…under the mistletoe!

All Theo Taylor wants for Christmas is a profitable year-end and a flawless wedding for his sister. Hiring beautiful but unknown designer Josie Beck is a huge risk, especially when the Taylors’ reputation is at stake. Josie is sweet, kind and impossible to resist. But is Josie about to destroy Theo’s perfect wedding plan…or is she the answer to his heart’s secret Christmas wish?

CARI LYNN WEBB lives in South Carolina with her husband, daughters and assorted four-legged family members. She’s been blessed to see the power of true love in her grandparents’ seventy-year marriage and her parents’ marriage of over fifty years. She knows love isn’t always sweet and perfect—it can be challenging, complicated and risky. But she believes happily-ever-afters are worth fighting for. She loves to connect with readers.

Also By Cari Lynn Webb

City by the Bay Stories

The Charm Offensive

The Doctor’s Recovery

Ava’s Prize

Single Dad to the Rescue

A Heartwarming Thanksgiving

“Wedding of His Dreams”

Make Me a Match

“The Matchmaker Wore Skates”

Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk.

In Love by Christmas

Cari Lynn Webb

www.millsandboon.co.uk

ISBN: 978-0-008-90091-5

IN LOVE BY CHRISTMAS

© 2020 Cari Lynn Webb

Published in Great Britain 2019

by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF

All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.

By payment of the required fees, you are granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right and licence to download and install this e-book on your personal computer, tablet computer, smart phone or other electronic reading device only (each a “Licensed Device”) and to access, display and read the text of this e-book on-screen on your Licensed Device. Except to the extent any of these acts shall be permitted pursuant to any mandatory provision of applicable law but no further, no part of this e-book or its text or images may be reproduced, transmitted, distributed, translated, converted or adapted for use on another file format, communicated to the public, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of publisher.

® and ™ are trademarks owned and used by the trademark owner and/or its licensee. Trademarks marked with ® are registered with the United Kingdom Patent Office and/or the Office for Harmonisation in the Internal Market and in other countries.

www.millsandboon.co.uk

Note to Readers

This ebook contains the following accessibility features which, if supported by your device, can be accessed via your ereader/accessibility settings:

 Change of font size and line height

 Change of background and font colours

 Change of font

 Change justification

 Text to speech

“You were married?” he asked.

“Our styles were too different.” Much like hers was with Theo’s. Worlds apart. Except right now she felt… “My style was casual, fly-by-the-seat-of-my-pants sort of thing. I wasn’t really suited for fancy, structured boardrooms and partner lunches.”

“Are you always so honest?” Theo asked.

No. If Josie were truly honest, she’d admit she wanted to move even closer to him and dare to test their attraction. “Pretending to be what you aren’t can be exhausting.”

A shadow of a smile passed across his face. “Then, tell me, who is Josie Beck?”

“A woman determined to succeed on her own.” Josie locked her gaze on his. “I don’t want help from anyone who feels sorry for me.”

“So, Josie Beck is dedicated, proud and hardworking.” He reached up and tucked a curl behind her ear. “Anything else?”

Josie’s pulse accelerated, sending her feelings into the express lane. She quickly headed for a detour. “I’m late for an appointment.” And much too late to start listening to my heart.

Dear Reader,

I grew up in a house where the door was always open. Guests were welcome to stay a night or months. Our dinner table was full at every holiday. These shared moments with our family and friends became a special part of our lives.

The holidays are one of my favorite times of the year. Especially because it’s a chance to reconnect with those people in your life that have come to mean so much. In Love by Christmas is a celebration of family at the holidays and, of course, romance. Josie Beck and Theo Taylor overcome a lot to discover feelings for each other and share perfect moments with the ones they love.

Wishing everyone a great holiday season!

I love to connect with readers. Check out my website at carilynnwebb.com to learn more about my upcoming books, sign up for email book announcements or chat with me on Facebook (carilynnwebb) or Twitter (@carilynnwebb). Remember to hug your friends and family for making these times special.

Happy reading!

Cari Lynn Webb

To my creative and talented nieces, Kayla and Lexi. Have faith. Keep believing. And always reach for the stars.

Special thanks to my writing tribe. To my family for their endless patience, support and letting me write on vacation. I love you guys!

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

About the Author

Booklist

Title Page

Copyright

Note to Readers

Introduction

Dear Reader

Dedication

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

CHAPTER NINETEEN

CHAPTER TWENTY

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

EPILOGUE

Extract

About the Publisher

CHAPTER ONE

“WE’RE THIRTY MINUTES into the workday and no one is at their desks.” Theo Taylor wove through the open-concept offices of Coast to Coast Living’s San Francisco headquarters. He glanced at his sister, who was beside him. “Was there a meeting I wasn’t told about?”

“Looks like Mother is holding another one of her impromptu employee-wellness sessions.” Adriana pointed at the crowd gathered outside a corner office and frowned. “Wonder what it is this week—parrot yoga, IV drips or detox teas?”

Employee wellness was fine and, in fact, encouraged, but not during work hours. Theo had explained that to his mother last week after he’d interrupted her crystal-stone-therapy session, and the week prior after he’d unplugged the blender and dismantled her charcoal-and-celery-juice presentation. Theo shook his head and veered toward his mother’s office.

His assistant VP of marketing and his human-resources manager noticed Theo’s approach and scurried away, avoiding his gaze. Several well-placed shoulder taps alerted their employees to his arrival and the crowd thinned.

“Ladies and gentlemen, perhaps lunchtime would be more appropriate for this.” Adriana’s voice drifted from behind him.

Theo reached the glass wall of his mother’s office and gaped. No time would ever be appropriate for this. Ever.

His mother stood on the cherry-wood coffee table, her cell phone perched in her hand and angled high above her head. Not unusual—his mother always had a firm grip on her cell phone. And the jeweled crown pinned in her black hair—even that could be overlooked. But…

Unease latched onto Theo like an extra shadow—the feeling was dense, cloying and unshakable. His mother wore a wedding gown. A very familiar, custom-made Linden Topher wedding dress that belonged to…

His sister reached his side and gasped. “She’s wearing my gown.”

Theo managed only an uncomfortable nod.

“Tell me this isn’t happening.” The sudden silence amplified Adriana’s abrupt command.

Theo’s words lodged in his throat.

“I won’t wear the same wedding dress as Mother.” His sister’s voice lowered, as if they were standing in a crowded elevator. “Remember last Easter? She showed up at the charity egg hunt in the same dress I had on. I bet she already tried on my sample veil and shoes from Linden Topher, too.”

That wasn’t a bet Theo would take.

“She’s not even engaged and she’s already glowing like a new bride,” Adriana snapped. She moved toward the closed office door. “Look at her blushing.”

Theo set his hand on his sister’s arm, stilling her and silencing the alarms clanging inside his head. “I’ll take care of it.”

“Mother declared at dinner last night she had to find the perfect dress for her next wedding.” Adriana lifted her chin, the stiff movement not enough to hide the tremor in her mouth. “I didn’t think she meant now, before she’s even found her next groom.”

Theo eased around Adriana, gripped the door handle and glanced back at his sister.

“I can’t do it, Theo.” Anger creased Adriana’s forehead, making her eyebrows crinkle, but dismay wrinkled her voice. “I can’t have her make a mockery of me.”

His sister’s waterlogged words undid him. Growing up, they’d ended many phone calls from their boarding schools exactly the same way: Adriana holding back tears and Theo promising to fix whatever needed fixing. He’d failed his sister back then. He refused to let down Adriana now. She deserved her own dream wedding—it was time for her to be the unique person she was, not a copycat. “You won’t have to. Mia is waiting for us in your office. Meet her while I deal with this.”

Theo never waited for his sister’s agreement. He rushed inside his mother’s office, slid his arm around her waist and helped her off the coffee table. “Mother. What are you doing?”

“Taking pictures of my partial wedding ensemble.” Lilian Rose Taylor pressed a button on her cell phone and stretched her smile to radiant. “I saved the veil for later.”

His mother had retained her beauty like a priceless piece of artwork that now required protection and delicate handling to ensure its value. “You’re not engaged.” His tone lacked the softness of white gloves.

“I’ve decided to change that.” She paused to check her reflection in the glass. “Your sister shouldn’t be the only one granted the magic of the season and a Christmas wedding.”

Yes. Adriana should be granted all the magic she could grasp. This was his sister’s moment. No one should steal it away, especially not their mother. Their mother had stolen their childhood. Now she lived in the in-law suite attached to Theo’s house and expected to be obeyed like the parent she’d never wanted to be. “It’s too late to plan a second Christmas wedding. There isn’t enough time.”

There also wasn’t time for his mother’s latest spectacle at the corporate headquarters for the lifestyle brand Theo had built. Too bad he couldn’t simply edit out the wedding madness dominating his life. He had a business to grow and his mother—the wild card—made that difficult.

“Your sister is still planning her wedding.” She tapped her crown back into place as if Theo’s harsh words had knocked it askew. “Adriana has plenty of time to make her wedding happen.”

Theo stared at the ceiling tiles, noted the tranquility posters his mother had tacked up there sometime that morning and tempered his voice. “Adriana also has a fiancé.”

“I will, too.” His mother took one measured step at a time along the length of the glass wall. As if she was walking the aisle of the city’s oldest cathedral.

The glass walls made a stunning architectural statement, but they also put the occupants on constant display to the staff and visitors. And Theo’s business associates—the ones from the TV network who were arriving any minute—would be very interested in his mother’s current performance. Had that been his mother’s agenda all along?

He wanted to believe his mother was only having a momentary lapse into wedding euphoria. But he’d learned as a child to trust his gut. And every cell inside him knew his mother never suffered momentary lapses into anything. She always jumped in with both heels and little consideration for the impact on everyone else.

He touched his mother’s elbow, guided her away from the wall and any possible spectators and led her into the far corner. Then he willed his admin assistant to take the TV producers straight to his office and bypass the coffee bar that had a clear view into his mom’s office.

His mother tilted her head and aimed her welcoming smile at the empty leather chair behind her desk, as if she was greeting a wedding guest. “I hired a discreet matchmaker.”

Discretion wasn’t part of Lilian Rose’s makeup. “Was one of your potential match requirements ‘must have wedding vows already memorized’?”

“I’m lonely, Theo.” She cradled her cheek in her palm, her frown fragile. “Don’t be insensitive.”

Theo flinched. As if claiming your own daughter’s wedding gown for yourself wasn’t insensitive enough. Still, she was his mother. And putting out fires wasn’t just what he did at the company. “What matchmaker did you hire?”

“Daphne Holland.” His mother swiped a clear, shimmery lip gloss across her mouth, supporting her sudden smile. “Holland Matchmakers was featured in last year’s August edition. I thought I could be the featured cover story for next August’s edition.” His mother preened, her loneliness forgotten. “I’ve always wanted to be a cover story.”

And apparently a Christmas bride, too. Theo ground his teeth together. “The August edition—”

“Can be changed,” she interrupted. “For your own mother.”

His own mother hadn’t changed for her own son or daughter. Boarding schools and distance had been Lilian Rose Taylor’s response to parenthood. Resentment smashed against his clenched teeth. Thanks to his parents, he’d grown up to be independent and self-reliant. More than comfortable standing on his own. Being on his own. Why, then, did he still want his mother’s approval? “I want to meet with Daphne Holland.”

“Wonderful.” His mother pressed her hands under her chin and sighed as if he’d agreed to escort her down the aisle. Her voice was delicate and dreamy. “You could sign up, too. Then we could have a double feature in the August edition.”

There wasn’t going to be any Taylor featured in the August edition or any future magazine edition. There also wasn’t going to be any matchmaking for himself. One Taylor on a love hunt was more than enough. Although his mother never mentioned love. But she looked more than camera-ready. “Between Adriana’s wedding and running the company, I have enough on my plate.”

“You’re right. There’s my wedding, too.” His mother set her lip gloss into her purse and snapped the clutch closed. “After the holidays, you can sign up with Daphne. Then you can have your own Christmas love story next year.”

The only thing Theo wanted for Christmas was a flawless wedding for his sister and a profitable year-end.

His admin, Fran, opened the office door. Her face never twitched at his mother’s bridal outfit. Fran was a consummate professional. “Your nine o’clock is waiting in your office. Should I tell them you’re running late?”

“It’s Tuesday. Today is the meeting with the TV producers.” His mother’s unwavering gaze pinned Theo in place. “I’m just in time.”

Theo blanched. He knew that nothing good would happen if his mother joined him for the meeting. “I’ll be right there.”

His admin slipped out of the room and disappeared. Now Theo needed his mother to disappear. At the last production meeting with the network, Theo had insisted the Taylor family was nothing to showcase on the company’s new TV series. His mother in her wedding paraphernalia could prove just the opposite.

Theo left his mother’s office and searched the hallway. Mia stepped from Adriana’s office, a camera clutched in her hand. He forced himself to lessen the panic in his tone. “Mia. I have a small situation and need your help.”

More like an all hands on deck situation to distract his mother.

Mia Reid, one of his best contract photographers, waved and headed toward him.

Theo adjusted his smile. He was certain from the slight tilt of Mia’s head that desperation widened his eyes and distorted his face. He ushered Mia into his mother’s office and stationed himself in the doorway. “Mia, I was hoping you could take several pictures of my mother in her wedding gown.”

Mia’s eyebrows pulled together in slow motion as her sharp gaze shifted from his mother to Theo.

“I’m not in my full ensemble,” his mother protested. “What about my veil?”

“But you should see the gown from all angles. You might want to pick a different length, or style of veil.” Theo scrambled to latch onto reasonable arguments, then glanced down the hall at his closed office door. What if it opened? What if one of the TV producers stepped out for more coffee…? His words tripped out in a rush. “Mother, you want the perfect veil.”

“You don’t want your gown to command the entire frame—it’ll take away from you, the bride.” Mia jumped in as if accomplished mind reader was listed on her résumé. “After all, it’s your wedding day, not the gown’s.”

“That’s a valid point.” His mother smoothed her hands over her waist and straightened. “Where should I stand?”

Theo owed Mia a bonus. If she hadn’t already returned from her honeymoon last week, he’d have offered to pay for it. He mouthed a silent thank-you to Mia and slipped out.

Twenty minutes later, Theo stopped believing he’d convinced the TV producers that the Taylor family was nothing to showcase on the new series.

Caitlyn, one of the younger producers, who probably considered 80s music ancient, slipped on a pair of trendy reading glasses. The tortoiseshell frames that flared at the temples gave her a cat-woman vibe. “The show needs drama to push it to the next level.”

Theo sat forward in his chair. “You all agreed the design elements speak to the show’s aesthetic.” And protected the brand he’d worked hard to build. A brand that did not include showcasing the shaky foundation—the imperfect side—of the Taylor family.

“It’s still flat.” Cat Woman narrowed her gaze on the slides spread out across the table. “We don’t want the Coast to Coast Living program to be like every other design show on TV.”

“There’s little profit or longevity in that.” Foster, the oldest producer, barely had five years on Theo. But the gentleman always wore a well-tailored suit and bow tie, and was fluent in numbers.

Turning a profit was Theo’s skill. The TV network had assured Theo a TV series would benefit his company’s profit line. Theo intended to hold the network to their word. “So, how do we make the show unique and make a profit?”

“We infuse the show with the Taylors.” Cat Woman grinned, revealing all her very white, very straight teeth. “The real Taylors. For instance, Adriana has had quite the whirlwind romance—one reportedly not without its hiccups.”

Theo folded his hands together and slowly set them on the table, waiting for his abrasive response to stop whiplashing through him. Settled, he stretched his smile wide and lied. “The Taylors are already reflected in the show’s products and room makeovers. We are the brand.”

“Yes. Of course.” Foster adjusted his bow tie. “But audiences like the behind-the-scenes peeks into families like yours. An inside view into your world.”

This time a curse whiplashed through Theo. An inside view—reality—would ruin everything that Theo had built. Reality would prove their brand wasn’t flawless and shrink their profits, not build them up.

After all, the Taylor family hardly lived the lifestyle the Coast to Coast Living brand embodied. The Taylor family was everything the brand was not. And everything Theo had always wished they’d been. He’d built an entire company around his childhood daydreams. From the positive response, customers wanted the same things: witty throw pillows, fast-paced game nights and harmony inside their homes. “I never agreed to a reality TV show.”

“It’s not a reality TV show per se.” Foster fiddled with the end of his bow tie.

“We’ll do preliminary footage here at the offices and around town to help determine the full cast,” Cat Woman purred. “Then meet later this week to review the footage with you.”

“You can set up that meeting with my admin.” Theo stood. “If you’ll excuse me, I have another meeting.”

A meeting with a certain photographer and his mother. He needed his mother off the premises before she gave the producers even more ideas. Or, worse, proved their suspicions correct. Theo walked toward his mother’s office and rubbed his forehead.

He’d transformed his father’s local lifestyle newspaper insert into a national magazine and expanded the brand into over a dozen successful retail stores across the country. Surely he could control one TV series and capitalize on the audience to widen their brand’s reach. And all without succumbing to the usual reality-TV mayhem. He had to.

He’d been pretending his family was perfect, like a sitcom, since he was a child. He’d built a business on those same fabrications, creating an image of the ideal family he’d been deprived of and transforming the Taylor family into a household brand. If he misstepped now, the brand would suffer. But success was all that mattered. All that people wanted from Theo.

Don’t make me regret giving you the family business. The weight of his father’s expectations still snagged into Theo’s shoulders like iron hooks. It was a daily reminder that everything he did was for his family.

Theo stepped into his mother’s office. Only Mia remained. She was sitting on the couch, her feet propped up on the coffee table. Worry seeped through him. “Where’s my mother?”

“She stepped out.” Mia focused on her camera. “And agreed to use the back stairwell to keep from revealing her wedding attire to even more of the employees. She promised to return quickly.”

Theo stuffed his hands in the pockets of his dress pants. He’d give his mother five minutes, then start looking for her. “Sorry about this.”

“Your mother is entertaining.”

Exactly what the producers would love. And exactly what Theo would hate. “She can be.”

Mia changed lenses on her camera. “Adriana told me that she now needs to find a new wedding-dress designer and rearrange all the other details of her wedding, too.”

Theo pressed his arms into his sides, restraining his irritation. How could his mother be so selfish?

Mia shifted her camera and eyed him. “I know a designer.”

Theo studied the photographer. He’d already promised to help his sister. “That’s rather convenient.”

“It is, since you need one willing to work on a tight timeline and meet your sister’s requests.” Mia grinned at him.

Impatience scratched against his neck like an overstarched collar. He wanted Adriana’s wedding over. He wanted his sister—the creative director of Coast to Coast Living—back full-time. He never wanted two brides. At the same time. Theo let his skepticism cut through his tone. “Your dressmaker can do that?”

Mia nodded. “She is up-and-coming.”

“Is she any good?” Theo persisted.

“You’ll find out that she’s fabulous if you give her a chance,” Mia said. “Josie just needs a break.”

How many times had he heard that line? Theo rolled his shoulders, testing to see if he could handle one more person stepping over him to climb their own ladder of success. He hadn’t blamed his past two girlfriends for their dreams. He wouldn’t blame Mia’s dressmaker, either.

“By the way, your mother went to pick out several wedding veils from your sister’s sample collection in the second-floor workroom.” Mia checked the time on her fitness tracker. “She should’ve been back already.”

Theo strode to the door, once again intent on intercepting his mother. He wasn’t certain the TV producers were even out of the building. He glanced back at Mia. “One meeting. Only an hour. I’ll look at your dressmaker’s work. Set it up with Fran.”

Surely he could find a better solution—a designer more qualified than Mia’s friend. After all, an unknown designer could ruin his sister’s perfect dream wedding. That wasn’t a risk he was willing to take.

CHAPTER TWO

“I TOLD MOM that Chloe and Connor shouldn’t be in the Christmas play with me.” Seven-year-old Charlotte sat on Josie Beck’s work stool in the back of The Rose Petal Boutique and spun herself in rapid circles. “The twins can’t sit still. Ever.”

The entire Cunningham family couldn’t sit still.

Josie captured a curly-haired little boy around the waist, earned a squeal of giggles and hauled the four-year-old back onto the platform. She swiped the tie-dyed mouse pincushion from Chloe, her matching blond curls bouncing, and twirled the little girl beside her twin brother. Mrs. Cunningham used her hip to nudge a baby stroller around the photograph display at the front of Josie’s boutique. The woman tossed toasted cereal to her eight-month-old baby with one hand and pressed her cell phone to her ear with the other. All without skipping a word in her animated conversation.

Josie wanted to skip all her appointments with the Curtain Call Children’s Theater group if the Cunninghams foreshadowed her afternoon. The pint-size chaos ruined Josie’s focus and kinked her patience.

But she’d drained her account to make December rent that morning. January’s payment loomed like a personal rain cloud.

Every alteration mattered. Every costume design mattered. Every client mattered. But every family mattered, too.

Josie positioned Connor on the platform in front of the floor-to-ceiling mirrors and lifted his arms. Resolved to do her best for the troupe, she said, “Stand like an airplane.”

“Airplanes don’t stand.” Charlotte stretched her arms out in her Mrs. Claus costume and her mischievous grin even wider. “Airplanes fly.”

The twins lifted their arms as if on cue and zoomed off the platform, weaving around Josie. Josie clenched her measuring tape and squeezed her shout back inside of her.

Charlotte spun the stool in the opposite direction and tilted her head back to ogle the ceiling. “The twins love airplanes and ice cream.”

Josie loved clients that stood still. Appointments that stayed on schedule. And harbored a soft spot for a certain seven-year-old girl, who refused to take off her Mrs. Claus costume.

Connor clipped Josie’s dress form, his chubby fingers catching on a strapless burgundy winter ball gown. The one waiting for Josie to hem and add sparkle to with a jeweled waistband. The one her client intended to pick up later that week, as promised. Josie settled the dress form and steered Connor up onto the platform. She tacked sincerity and confidence into her voice, then improvised. “I bet if you stand really still and let me take these measurements for your costumes, your mom will get you ice cream.”

Chloe crash-landed into the back of Josie’s legs.

Charlotte chanted, “Mayday. Mayday.”

That was the same chant of Josie’s checking account. Utility bills were due in ten days. Josie had to complete the costumes for the children’s theater production of Rudolph, Somerset Playhouse’s Scrooge performance and an expanding pile of alterations. If only that was enough to turn a profit. Worry sheared through her, weakening her knees and sapping her hope. Rent in San Francisco was high, but it meant she had easy access to more clients.

Josie shook the bells on the curved end of a sample elf hat, locked her knees and shifted her attitude. Gloom never quite fit her—it was like a poorly tailored dress, cinching in some places, sagging in others. “Let’s skip the measurements and try on fun hats instead.”

“Chloe won’t put that on.” Certainty pushed out Charlotte’s chin.

Josie jingled the bells again, seeking her holiday cheer and best smile for the spirited little girl. Josie’s favorite foster mom, Mimi Sims, had never forced her smiles and had always hugged without restraint. “Can I just set this on your head? One quick second.”

Chloe grabbed the elf hat and smashed it under her faux-fur boots. “No hat.”

Josie rubbed her temples and slid her gaze to Charlotte. “Will Connor try it on?”

“He does what Chloe does.” Charlotte crossed her legs and tapped one glitter-painted fingernail on her chin. “But they might put it on for bubble gum.”

“Bubble gum.” Josie quickly ran through the contents of her purse. “I don’t have bubble gum.”

Charlotte shrugged. “They aren’t allowed to have it, anyway. Last summer, Chloe stuck her bubble gum in Connor’s hair. Then Connor chewed a bunch of pieces and smashed it all in Chloe’s hair.”

Josie sank onto the platform. She’d almost started another bubble-gum war. Clearly, she needed to be better prepared—and equipped—for children clients in her boutique. Yet this was the happy chaos of a big family. A chaos she’d always wanted. An ache curled through that soft spot.

“Mom had to smear peanut butter in the twins’ hair.” Charlotte warmed to her story. Delight flashed through her voice. “Mom even used the whole jar. But the gum never came out.”

Josie might never finish this appointment. Then she might never become a custom dressmaker. All her hard work as a daytime housecleaner and evening waitress for almost two years, all the overtime shifts and every missed meal to save enough money to open the boutique, would be wasted. And her ex-husband’s family would be right: she didn’t have what it took to be more than a seamstress in a strip mall.

Josie swiped her hand over her eyes, attempting to wipe away the obstacles of the past and focus on the obstacles in front of her. If she failed now, she’d prove more than her ex and his family right. But Josie wasn’t that foster kid anymore, either. She concentrated on Charlotte, raising her voice over the stinging taunts of her childhood. “What did your mother do?”

“Both the twins had to have their hair shaved off.” Charlotte leaned forward and patted her own head. Regret tugged down the edges of her bottom lip. “Chloe had to wear a hat forever, even though it scratched her naked head.”

No wonder the poor child hated hats. “Is there any way to make them stand still?”

“Chocolate.” Charlotte never hesitated. Never blinked. Her tone contained only authority.

The kids were already walking sugar rushes. “Can they have chocolate?”

“No.” Charlotte pointed at her chest, her blond eyebrows rising along with her grin. “But I can.”

Josie eyed the girl, appreciating the child’s crafty negotiations. Josie could use the seven-year-old’s skills. “If I give you chocolate, will you help me with your brother and sister?”

“That depends.” Charlotte adjusted the white apron of her Mrs. Claus costume. “What kind of chocolate do you have?”

One year, Josie had refused to take off the princess costume Mimi had sewn for her on Halloween. Every day after school, Mimi had a full tea party, complete with minicakes and cider, and her princess gown ready for Josie. Mrs. Cunningham offered a distracted wave aimed more at the empty dressing room than her oldest daughter and nudged the stroller in the opposite direction. Once again, she never missed a word in her phone call. No full tea party waited for Charlotte at home.

“I have a king-size chocolate-and-almond bar.” Josie had stuffed the candy bar in her purse that morning for lunch. The twin cause was worth the sacrifice. “And a new bag of chocolate drops.”

Charlotte glanced at the front of the store. “I can help for chocolate drops.”

“Deal.” Josie jumped up. She had no tea party prepared, but she could provide an all-you-can-eat chocolate experience. “Why don’t you change behind those curtains and I’ll fill up the candy dish?”

“I can eat them now?” Wonder widened Charlotte’s eyes.

“As many as you want, as long as you change.” Josie pointed at the pristine white apron of Charlotte’s costume. Mimi had convinced Josie that grass stains on the playground would ruin the princess costume. Josie had relented and worn the dress only after school. “You might be Mrs. Claus and known for baking all sorts of treats for the elves, but you don’t want chocolate stains on your outfit before your big stage debut.”

Charlotte disappeared behind the thick velvet curtains of the dressing room. Josie grinned at the twins. “One more round of airplane.”

The twins took off, increasing their flight pattern to include a full circle around one of the rolling wedding dress racks and a flyby of Josie’s bridal accessory wall. Josie dumped the bag of chocolate candy into a glass bowl and set the candy dish on the small table next to the vintage fainting couch. She reserved the candy for tired brides, coming in after long work shifts for their final wedding dress fittings.

If the candy rescued her now, she’d stock up for future fittings for children and brides alike.

Twenty minutes later, Josie waved the twins goodbye and earned a big chocolate-infused hug from Charlotte. Their mother covered her phone with her hand and thanked Josie for her time and hard work.

Josie walked to the bridal fitting area and dropped onto the fainting couch. Tin-foil candy wrappers crinkled underneath her. She tipped her head and checked the pocket-watch wall clock hanging from a chain on the wall. Fifteen minutes until the next family arrived for their costume fittings. Could she make it to the corner store and back for a candy-dish refill? She also had to finish the burgundy ball gown, suit pants and six other alterations for clients to pick up tomorrow.

The bells on the front door chimed. A familiar voice shouted, “Josie. Where are you?”

In an alteration abyss. Josie called out, “In the back.”

Mia Reid—formerly Mia Fiore—and Josie’s friend and business roommate spoke over the chiming bells. “The front door is sticking again. We need to get it fixed.”

Josie added the door repair to the bottom of her to-do list, after paying the bills and finding more clients. Josie had welcomed Mia and her start-up photography business into her boutique a year ago. In the past few months, Mia’s business had grown from portraits to events like society weddings and corporate gatherings and, most recently, still-life photographs for the global lifestyle magazine Coast to Coast Living. Josie celebrated Mia’s success and wanted her good friend to thrive.

She just wanted to celebrate her own success, too. But Josie’s bridal boutique and custom-dressmaker services had stalled somewhere between formal gown alterations and resizing everyday work wear.

Mia dropped her camera equipment near her photography displays and skipped toward Josie. Mia had been skipping since she’d recited her wedding vows three weeks ago. She punched her arms over her head like a cheerleader celebrating her team’s game-winning touchdown. “I have the absolute best news ever.”

Josie brushed candy wrappers onto the floor and dropped her arm over her eyes. How could she be so exhausted from only one kid appointment? She had more than a dozen to go—she was going to require a warehouse of chocolate. “Unless it involves a wealthy Prince Charming sweeping me off my feet, it can’t be the absolute best news ever.”

“You always tell me you can stand fine on your own two feet,” Mia argued. “No sweeping required.”

Josie peeked at her friend from under her arm. “Maybe I changed my mind.”

Mia laughed, the sound infectious and bright. “You’re telling me you’ve given up your dream to be the city’s go-to dressmaker, become wealthy on your own and live happily-ever-after exactly as you want?”

Josie frowned and wished the candy bowl wasn’t empty. The foster-care system had taught her the only person she could rely on was herself. Her disastrous marriage had reinforced that lesson. She hadn’t forgotten. “Not exactly.”

“Then listen to my best news ever.” Mia tugged on Josie’s arm, pulling her to a sitting position.

Josie rearranged the ends of her long silk scarf and rolled her shoulders—the ones she relied on that hadn’t failed her yet. “Let’s hear it.”

“Adriana Taylor needs a new wedding-dress designer.” Mia plucked one of Josie’s consignment wedding gowns from the rack and held it in front of her.

“Adriana Taylor has fired more than a dozen designers.” Josie crossed her arms over her chest and eyed the dress Mia held. If she removed the long sleeves, added a deep side split and sweeping train, she’d transform the gown. Lace appliqués and a sheer back would upscale it. Was that fashion-forward or fashion-yesterday? A bride would likely alter Josie’s vision. It was better to let the bride decide on the modifications, using the original vintage gown as the base. “That isn’t a surprise about Adriana.”

Mia stuck the dress on the crowded rack and faced Josie. “Will you be surprised when I tell you that you are going to be Adriana Taylor’s new wedding-gown designer?”

Josie finally understood the purpose of the antique fainting couch. A burst of joy shook her, but just as quickly, fear frayed her excitement. What if she wasn’t…? “Me?”

Josie could hardly tame a pair of four-year-olds. How was she supposed to handle Adriana Taylor, rumored to be one of the city’s leading bridezillas? Word had spread through the fashion industry about the Taylor sibling, reaching even Josie’s small-time boutique.

“Yes. You.” Enthusiasm infused Mia’s movements and voice. “Theo Taylor’s assistant is going to call you to confirm a time this week for you to show the Taylors your designs.”

“This week.” Doubt and unease soaked through Josie’s words.

“I don’t know your schedule so I couldn’t just set up the appointment.” Mia twisted her long hair into a bun and fastened it with a jeweled clip Josie had created. The only original thing Josie had created in the past six months.

Anytime this week was too soon. Josie lacked inspiration. The last few months she’d been upscaling used wedding gowns for budget-strained brides, not creating her own fashions. She doubted Theo’s sister wanted a used gown, however updated it was. “Why do the Taylors want me?”

“Because I told them you’re the best designer in the city.” Mia looked herself over in the floor-to-ceiling mirror and grinned at Josie.

Josie absorbed her friend’s compliment like a cat curled in the sunshine, grateful Mia believed in her. If only Mia’s confidence could chase away Josie’s uncertainty. “That was kind.”

“And the truth,” Mia said. “You’re up for this, right? You know what this means?”

She could pay next month’s rent on time, and the month after that. Launch her custom dress-making business rather than suffocating one alteration at a time. “I’m stunned. I’m still processing.”

“Well, process faster. If you design an original gown for Adriana, I get to shoot the June wedding edition, cover to cover.” Mia swung around to face her. “And you’ll get billing and your own spread in the issue.”

“That’s…” Josie faltered. If she failed, she’d let down Mia, too. Her friend—one of her only friends. How would Josie ever forgive herself? How would Mia ever forgive her? Josie touched her forehead as if that would stop the sudden spinning.

“Incredible. I can’t wait to tell Wyatt.” Mia pumped her fists. “This can launch your business and mine to the next level.”

Josie wanted the next level. Needed the next level. Now wasn’t the time to discover a sudden fear of heights. Still, worry swept through her and her stomach swayed.

“And you can come with me to the Coast to Coast Living holiday gala,” Mia said. “It’s the networking event of the year.”

Josie concentrated on Mia’s composed voice and optimism to counterbalance her own fear. The Coast to Coast Living holiday gala was one of the premier events in the city. The Taylor family invited every vendor, retailer and contractor who’d helped make their global magazine and lifestyle brand a success. Invitations were coveted. Opportunities to meet other business leaders were exceptional. That disquiet slowly returned.

There are no shortcuts to success, Josie. And the climb isn’t always comfortable, either.

Wise words from Mimi. Josie had pricked her finger on a needle during their sewing lessons. A glittery Band-Aid, sugar cookies and a trip to the fabric store had righted Josie’s world and convinced her she’d master sewing, the same as Mimi.

Josie poked a stray pin into the mouse pincushion on the side table and popped the doubt bubble inside her. “Looks like I need to start designing a wedding gown.”

“Any chance you could design dresses for us, too?” Mia swept her hands over her waist as if she was wearing a formal ball gown, not jeans and a sweater. “We could arrive at the gala in Josie Beck originals and be walking billboards of your work.”

Josie had chosen her studio apartment for the unexpected large walk-in closet—a closet she’d filled with clothes she’d designed and sewn between shifts and many sleepless nights the past few years. Dresses, pants, jackets—all designed for a specific occasion and yet never worn. Josie hadn’t actually been invited to any of those special events.

Until now.

So far, she’d created her clothes for her own joy. Every hand stitch, every embroidered thread, every hand-dyed fabric made those hours between midnight and sunrise a little less lonely. “I need to concentrate on the wedding dress first.”

“That wasn’t a no. I’ll take it.” Mia gave Josie a quick and easy hug. “This is ranking up there to be one of the best days ever.”

Josie had to find inspiration and fast. Or this would become one of her worst moments ever.

CHAPTER THREE

“I’M ALL BOOKED UP, Mr. Taylor, until next fall. Best of luck to you.” The dial tone ended Theo’s conversation.

His prior conversations had circled around variations of the same theme.

Oh, this is for Adriana? I just noticed there’s a conflict on the schedule.

Even for that price, Mr. Taylor, I cannot find more hours in the work week. And I would need infinite hours to meet Adriana’s exacting standards.

I fear Adriana and I would clash, Mr. Taylor. Our aesthetics do not align, as it were. That can be very unpleasant.

Each phone call had been a dead end. Each one an unavailable wedding-dress designer. That totaled nine well-established designers unavailable or unwilling to work with Adriana. Theo was two hours into his workday and already things were descending into the discouraging and disappointing column.

If the designers on both coasts knew about Adriana’s reputation as difficult and micromanaging, then the TV producers likely knew, too.

A city bus shuddered to a stop on the street corner behind Theo. The gasping squeal of the brakes ratcheted his headache to another level. Theo’s phone rang. “Fran, tell me you found someone.”

Fran’s bluntness cut through the speaker. “No available dress designers.”

He rubbed his forehead. “What about my mother?”

“She’s refusing to let me return the exclusive Linden Topher wedding gown. She’s intent on getting married, Theo.” Fran’s tone was resolute.

Theo switched his phone to his other ear and pulled a business card from his pocket. He checked the address printed on the card and continued down the sidewalk. Frustration quickened his strides. “Tell me something good, at least, Fran. What did you find out about Josie Beck?”

“Josie is the sole owner of The Rose Petal Boutique.” Fran paused. The sound of her rapid typing drifted in the background. “It’s a unique consignment wedding-dress shop for every bride.”

Good news would’ve been Josie Beck had earned a bachelor’s degree in fashion design or apprenticed in top fashion houses in Europe. Theo clenched his phone and stared at the vintage exterior of The Rose Petal Boutique drooping in front of him.

He was anything but charmed.

The boutique reminded him of a neglected stepchild. The run-down building was smashed between two vibrant, profitable older sisters, their buildings renovated and restored. The boutique signage was simple and faded. The paint around the wood molding on the front windows was cracked, chipped and dingy.

If he was interested in an instant makeover, he’d paint the exterior lavender to help the small building blossom like a vibrant, rare rosebush on the block.

But his sister needed a wedding gown.

And Theo needed to know an unknown designer was worth his trust.

Theo tugged on the door handle. The warped front door never budged. Perhaps that was all the proof he required about Josie Beck. Certainly, if the boutique owner wanted more customers, even sidewalk window-shoppers, she would have repaired her door. Wedged as it was in the door frame, the welcome sign in the window should’ve read Go Away.

Theo yanked harder and forced the door open. A set of bells chimed and a woman’s voice called out from the back of the store, “Welcome to Rose Petal. I’ll be with you in a minute.”

There was nothing bland about the woman’s cheerful acknowledgment. Her voice, crisp and colorful, like the holiday celebrations featured in the December edition of Coast to Coast, invited Theo to linger and explore the boutique. Too bad she wasn’t outside on the sidewalk, greeting window-shoppers and drawing in potential customers.

Familiar photographs on a maze of wire-rack displays, stood before Theo and he frowned. The space was completely misused. Even worse, Mia’s talent as a photographer wasn’t being highlighted. That wasn’t the point. Theo was well-versed in Mia Reid’s talent. It was Josie Beck that concerned him.

Theo wove through the wire-rack maze, following the sound of voices in the back. He paused in front of a framed photograph of a blond woman and a mixed-breed dog, given its patchwork of brown, black and white fur. The dog’s paws rested on the woman’s shoulders as his pink tongue swiped across her cheek. The woman’s head was tipped back, her smile calling.

Theo leaned forward, then caught himself. He glanced around, prepared to argue—of course, I hadn’t been edging closer to see if I could hear the woman’s sunny laughter. That would be impossible. Still, he lingered until he scowled. He’d never been charmed by a picture before.

Theo stepped around the last row of displays and glanced toward the floor-to-ceiling mirrors.

A tall brunette stood on the platform, facing the mirrors. A woman, her blond hair tied back with a frayed piece of plaid fabric, wrestled a gown’s enormous white bow into submission, revealing the one redeeming element of the dress—a low-cut back. Then she gathered the bulky white skirt to tighten the outdated wedding dress around the brunette’s curves.

“Do you see it, Shanna?” The blond woman flattened one of the puffy white shoulders the way Theo used to smash a toasted marshmallow between graham crackers at summer camp.

Theo tilted his head. All he saw was that obnoxiously large bow popping free of the woman’s grip like a broken jack-in-the-box and an excess of ribbons. How had the woman convinced the bride-to-be to try on such an unappealing gown?

The blond woman folded the bow in indignant pleats, forcing it out of sight. She rattled off a series of alterations, her free hand sweeping gracefully along the woman’s side. “Can you envision the dress you described to me? The one we drew together.”

“I see it, Josie.” Hesitation slowed the woman’s words.

Josie Beck.

Everything slowed and rolled inside Theo as if he’d tripped over a speed bump. His focus locked onto the blonde with the colorful voice, but she couldn’t stop his fall into captivation.

“That’s wonderful.” Josie rose on the tips of her boots and peeked over the shoulder of the woman she’d called Shanna. “It’s enough if you can see it in your mind right now.”

“But I can’t afford all these changes to the dress, Josie.”

Josie released the heavy skirt and stepped around the cascade of fabric to face the Shanna.

The brunette’s height concealed Josie’s face, but not the tremor in her voice.

“The dress itself is in your budget, right?” Josie asked.

The woman nodded.

Josie moved closer to Shanna, her face still hidden, but her sure voice more than clear. “Then that’s all you need to pay for.”

Theo rubbed his chin as if he’d done a face-plant, after all. At the very least, Josie should’ve inquired if the woman had any woodworking skills. Then Josie could have gotten her front door repaired in exchange for the dress alterations. A business arrangement should always benefit both parties. Always.

Complimentary services had a place, but not if the business suffered more loss than profit. From the drab exterior to the dated interior, Theo guessed The Rose Petal Boutique was more in the red than the black.

“Penny told me you were an angel. She told me you’d help me out.” Shanna covered her face, her shoulders trembling. Tears splashed against her cheeks, her voice barely a whisper. “I never expected…”

Theo never expected compassion and generosity—it was a compliment and a criticism. A kind heart had no place in business. The weak allowed their emotions to guide their decisions. Theo had stopped being weak in grade school—the summer after his grandmother’s death. The same summer his parents had refused to let him come home. Life rewards the self-reliant, Theo.

Theo backed away.

Josie could keep her kind heart. If she wanted to thrive in the business world and even survive in the upheaval produced by the Taylor family, she needed to develop a harder edge.

“This is the start of your new life.” Josie moved around her client, gathered the bulky train and guided the woman off the platform. Sincerity and resolve fused her words into a convincing argument. “Your wedding day has to be everything you ever dreamed, including your dress.”

Shanna offered Josie a watery thank-you before they disappeared inside the dressing room.

Theo had given his sister the very same promise. A wedding to surpass her dreams. He narrowed his gaze on the thick velvet curtains of the single dressing room.

Could Josie transform the chaotic mess of a dress the woman wore into her dream gown? Could she keep her promise? Theo wasn’t sure.

Josie would need to create an original gown—one that met Theo’s standards—and deliver it finished and ready to wear in less than three weeks. But if the woman insisted on giving away her services for free, word would no doubt spread. Then she’d be stuck in a backlog of charity work. Surely Josie wanted more than to recycle old wedding gowns at a steep discount. Surely Josie valued her work. Unless the dressmaker wasn’t that good.

A tic of irritation pulsed along his jaw. Theo glanced around the space, skipping his gaze over the worn Victorian violet-print couch, the bridal accessory shelves and twin rolling racks bursting with secondhand wedding dresses. Certainly, Josie wouldn’t be so careless with her own creations. If she had any.

Disappointment settled in. He wasn’t seeing anything original. Surely Josie wanted her work displayed. That would give her clients confidence in her skill and ability as a custom dressmaker.

That would reassure him, too. He pulled out his cell phone, certain there were other designers he hadn’t considered. He’d given his word to Adriana. He couldn’t rely on a timid, softhearted dressmaker who doubted herself.

The women emerged from the dressing room. The bride-to-be tugged a knit cap over her long brunette hair. “Josie, you have to come to the wedding. You have to be in the wedding.”

“That’s very kind.” Josie handed Shanna a thick wool scarf. “You have more to think about than me and I need to concentrate on getting your dress ready for your wedding day.”

Josie also needed to concentrate on turning a profit. Wasn’t that the point of a successful business? That was how a business owner earned respect and discovered their value.

Shanna faced the floor-length mirrors and wrapped the long scarf around her neck. “What now?”

Theo should leave and continue his search to find a designer he believed in. One capable of creating and completing an exclusive gown for Adriana in a tight time frame. A gown worthy of the Coast to Coast Living brand.

Josie carried the wedding gown out of the dressing room. Her one arm was completely concealed within the dense layers of ribbons and lace, much like the uncertainty that camouflaged any guarantee in her voice. “I’ll call you for the next fitting in about two weeks.”

About was very indefinite. About invited suspicion and doubt into a client’s mind. That was never good. Would Josie call the woman in ten days or closer to three weeks as both dates fell into the about time frame? Theo never liked sliding time frames. Too much room for error and misinterpretation. He preferred to work with people who committed to a specific date and delivered on their promise.

“I can’t wait.” The bride-to-be brushed past Theo, her face bundled up to her eyes, and disappeared outside.

Theo returned his attention to the photograph of the woman and the dog. Once again, he searched for the reason this one simple picture fascinated him. It was more than the perfectly placed lighting. Or the backdrop. Or the vibrant subjects. If he’d been asked to give a definition for carefree, he’d have chosen the picture. But he’d never been carefree in his life. Never considered such an impractical sentiment until now.

“Sorry to keep you waiting. Mia’s work is exceptional.” Josie appeared beside Theo and pointed to a photograph. “Are you thinking about hiring her?”

“I already have.” It was the woman beside Theo that worried him. He turned toward Josie, extended his hand and, for the first time since middle school, stumbled over his own name.

Her blue eyes were too round, her smile too honestly genuine, her face too guileless. And those wisps of blond hair brushing against her pale cheeks—he’d bet anything the soft curls were natural. She was too natural. Too refreshing. Even more distracting than the photograph. The photograph she was featured in. The one that now seemed to be laughing at him. “Theo Taylor,” he finally managed to say.

She reached for her scarf, rather than his hand. The silk fabric loosened around her neck as her fingers tangled in the frayed ends, as if she was struggling to hide something. “This is an unexpected surprise. I wasn’t aware we’d confirmed a meeting time.”

She was an unexpected surprise. Theo avoided surprises. He never liked the disruption that surprises caused in his routine. Knowing what to expect in any given situation gave him the advantage and that was often the difference between winning or losing. He followed her toward the fitting area. “Can I offer you some business advice? You really shouldn’t give your services away for free.”

Josie draped the measuring tape around her neck, letting the ends twist around her scarf. Disapproval twisted through her voice. “You really shouldn’t eavesdrop on conversations that don’t affect you.”

He shrugged. “Free services are not a sustainable business model. There is no profit in free.”

She walked into her workroom and rolled a dress form in front of her. She eyed him as if he was more distasteful than Shanna’s secondhand wedding dress. “You probably haven’t heard of Penny’s Place.”

The annoyance in her tone set him back. She dared to judge to him. Dared to make herself even more appealing. He centered his focus on her, letting his gaze narrow. “Coast to Coast Living has donated to Penny’s Place every year for the past decade. Penny is well-known for the sanctuary she provides to women in need of a safe place to recover and rebuild their lives.”

“But you’ve never spent time inside Penny’s Place,” she said. “Never met any of the women who live there.”

He didn’t have to stand inside Penny’s Place to understand the value of Penny’s nonprofit organization. The Taylor family and Coast to Coast Living supported many charitable organizations in the city and around the country. He wouldn’t defend himself to her. “I have not.”

“Shanna Jennings—the bride-to-be that just stood on this platform—recently moved out of Penny’s Place.” Josie set her hand on the body form as if to find her balance. Anguish creased her forehead, pulling her eyebrows together. “Her story isn’t mine to share. Shanna has more than earned a fairy-tale wedding. I have the opportunity to be a small part of her new life. That means something to me.”

She had an opportunity to turn a profit, too, and chose not to. Josie acted as if she was being granted permission to work for Shanna, not doing Shanna a large favor. A very large, very free favor.

Josie Beck was obviously a good person. But charity should never stand in the way of profit. Everything had its place. Charity was separate from the daily tasks and standard practices of any business.

He couldn’t recall the last time he’d done something for free. Something for the simple pleasure it gave him. He always considered the business first. Always considered the corporation’s bottom line. Always. And he wouldn’t go soft now because of some selfless, misguided wisp of a dressmaker no matter how much she charmed him.

He picked up the design book that was lying open on the corner of the platform. The drawing was similar to how she’d described the alterations to Shanna. He could almost envision the finished dress. Almost.

He flipped through more pages. Nothing sparked inside him. Nothing leaped from the page and commanded his attention. He wanted more for Adriana. He needed more for his sister’s wedding. His sister might be getting married, but Coast to Coast Living would be reflected in every detail of the day. Perfection was expected.

Josie might be appealing, but Theo feared she lacked the experience and sophistication required for such an event. “I’m sorry for interrupting your morning, but I don’t see anything suitable for my sister.”

She yanked the book out of Theo’s hands. Her fingers clutched the binder and it seemed as if she was debating whether or not to bash him on the side of the head. “These designs are for my current clientele, modest and affordable.” He could hear the irritation in her voice. Her words came out like finely sharpened tacks.

Theo crossed his arms over his chest, blocking her barbs. He refused to be swayed. “And not original.”

She pressed her design book into the seat cushion of the couch and held her position.

“You’re using the base of consignment dresses to build from,” he accused. He couldn’t back down. He’d given his word to his sister. Not to mention the other promises he’d made. He had a family and company to protect. “Rather than the dresses being your own work from start to finish.”

She straightened and faced him. Anger lit her gaze. “When I’m finished, you won’t be able to tell where the vintage dress ends and the current one begins.”

He doubted that. He didn’t doubt that Josie Beck was much too interesting.

“Come back for Shanna’s final fitting.” She lifted her chin, straightened her shoulders and met his gaze: challenge for challenge. Nothing timid about her. “Then you can judge me.”

“I might just do that.” Not because he wanted to see her again. Only because he wanted to prove her wrong. “But I don’t know when that fitting will be. About two weeks isn’t a very definitive date. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have scheduled meetings to attend.”

She blocked his path. “I only need to meet Adriana and I can design an exclusive gown for her.” Her voice dipped into that hard-nosed, implacable business edge he often relied on to get the results he expected.

Theo gaped at her. Why wasn’t she backing down? This small-time boutique owner, more concerned about her goodwill deeds than ensuring a profit. “Excuse me.”

“I’d like to meet Adriana before you dismiss my work,” she repeated in that same inflexible tone. She stretched out her words as if she were stretching out her backbone. Theo approved and moved toward her, certain she wouldn’t back away. He hadn’t enjoyed a business meeting this much since…

He stopped abruptly. Business was business. Not fun. Not playful. Definitely not joyful.

Still, one meeting was all she was asking for. She was talented, at least reflected in her drawing book. Besides, he already had an idea stirring for Josie Beck. One that would boost her boutique and career without jeopardizing his sister’s perfect wedding. He could be kind when he chose to. And make a profit. “Lunch tomorrow at Jasmine Blue Café. Eleven thirty.” He motioned to her sketchbook on the couch. “If you have original designs not inside your book, bring those, too.”

Theo detoured around her and walked out of the boutique. A smile tripped across his mouth. Josie Beck intrigued him. Lunch couldn’t arrive soon enough.

CHAPTER FOUR

JOSIE STOOD OUTSIDE Jasmine Blue Café. A familiar man exited a cab across the street. Theo Taylor. Her gaze sealed on his charcoal gray topcoat, she noted how he’d perfected his top executive image. Theo’s height refused to allow him to blend easily into the crowd on the sidewalk. Confidence flowed from his sure stride and straight back. Theo seemed to broadcast to every stranger around him that they could rely on his sturdy shoulders for whatever they needed.

That was only an illusion. Josie straightened her own shoulders.

Solid financial reports, obtainable budgets and high profit margins inspired men like Theo. Josie recognized his type. She’d been married to the same kind of man for four years. Her husband never understood her. Eventually, she understood she’d never be treated as anything more than an expense line in his world.

Josie, please keep your handmade clothes in the downstairs bedroom closet. Hobbies are for amateurs and best kept to oneself. After all, there’s no profit in a hobby.

Being a starving artist wasn’t Josie’s goal. Her ex had considered himself a hero for rescuing Josie from her waitressing job and agreeing to marry her. Perhaps if she’d earned that business degree and made money on her clothing line, then he’d have accepted her. But she’d wanted more than acceptance in her marriage and that had been her error.

The hope Mimi had put into Josie as a child had been doused with a dose of reality from her ex. But Josie believed she could move on and prosper. She clutched her design book and the new sketches she’d spent most of the night drawing. She refused to let Theo Taylor take that away from her.

“Josie Beck.” Theo stepped toward the entrance to the café and unbuttoned his jacket. The formality never gone from his tone. “Right on time.”

“Mr. Taylor.” Josie tried to use the same stiff detachment. She adjusted her design book under one arm, then the other. The book poked into her side, triggering a flinch in her bravado. “Thank you for arranging this lunch.”

Theo nodded, opened the café door and motioned her inside.

Josie passed by him, inhaled a trace of his crisp cologne and her reserve slipped. She wanted to linger, right there beside him in the doorway like the infatuated girl she’d never been. Hardly professional. Business meetings required more decorum. She held her breath and walked toward the hostess counter.

A waitress guided them to a private table tucked near the back of the restaurant, but offered an outdoor view. Across the street, a cable car rolled to a stop. Locals jumped off and even more tourists climbed on.

Theo pulled out a chair for Josie, then sat in the one right beside her. Specials of the day were recited. Drink orders placed. After a promise from the waitress to return for their lunch orders once their other guest arrived, Josie and Theo were alone.

Theo nodded toward her design book. “Shall we get to the designs?”

“Should we wait for Adriana?” Or wait until Josie’s confidence stopped slipping through her fingers like silk thread.

“My sister is running late.” Irritation twitched across his thin mouth, pinching into the edges of his cool gaze. He eyed Josie, his eyebrows lifted as if he recognized Josie wanted to stall and dared her to try.

Josie slid back in the chair and propped her back against the plump cushion.

Judgment waited. Right beside her. Worse, he smelled so good, like the last breath before the sun dipped into the bay. Why did she have to notice that? Now every time she inhaled the ocean breeze, she’d recall this moment. Relive this moment.

Keeping her breaths shallow, Josie pulled two sheets of paper from her book. The top corner bent on the second design like a bad omen. Josie tried to smooth out the crease as if that might unwrinkle her own unease.

Theo gently tugged the designs out of her grip. That unease accelerated, sweeping anxiety from her fingertips to her toes. Her cute suede booties were useless against the assault. She needed steel-toed boots for this task.

So much hinged on this moment: her future as a dress designer. Mia’s success. The boutique. Her chin quivered, sinking toward her chest.

Now Theo held her work. The silence suffocated Josie. Or perhaps that was the impending rejection. Had she created a dress for any bride, or something special enough for Adriana? She should’ve never added the ombré tulle. Or the cap sleeves.

Josie pressed her damp palms against her legs, stilling the urge to flee on a passing cable car. She had often wondered if that A-in math had given away the truth: she hadn’t been—and still wasn’t—perfect. Families she’d come in contact with, looking to adopt, had only wanted perfect children.

Theo Taylor wanted perfection.

Her pulse chased through her body like short-circuited Christmas lights, igniting every nerve inside her. Her gaze fixed on a corner of the restaurant, the space empty and wasted. She blurted, “Fountain.”

“Excuse me,” Theo said.

“Sorry. Bad habit. I’ve been working on a mental filter since grade school.”

“How old were you when you decided you needed a mental filter?” The slight curiosity in his voice echoed the obligatory interest of so many distracted caseworkers she’d met with throughout the years.

“Seven. I was at an adoption fair.” Those fair days had always made her heart race and her stomach queasy. Like right now.

“You were at an adoption fair?” Theo set the designs on the table and shifted toward her. His gaze settled fully on her, his interest no longer cursory.

Josie’s stomach turned inside out. “Several. I grew up in the foster system.”

Theo’s gaze searched her face, unblinking and somber.

Josie rushed on, skimming over the inevitable pity he was sure to aim her way. Business luncheons had no place for pity. Or outbursts. Or distressing backstory. That filter failed her again. “I brought my report card and artwork with me to the adoption fair to show potential families.”

To prove to those potential families that she was more than a reserved little girl. More than the label of being withdrawn that had been stuck on her.

Now she was only showing Theo her insecurities. Her words kept spilling out. “A woman picked up my paperwork. I panicked, grabbed my artwork and yelled, ‘bathroom.’”

Josie had escaped into the girls’ bathroom, unwilling to wait for the disappointment and the forthcoming rejection by another stranger. Before Theo could react, she added, “A fountain would be nice in that empty corner over there.”

Preferably a fountain large enough for Josie to sink herself and her mortification into.

“I’ll mention the fountain to the owners when I see them next.” His voice was gruff, as if charred by an iron. “And, Josie, those families that didn’t adopt you—they lost out.”

Josie nodded, realigning her focus. Tears had no place in business luncheons, either.

He returned his attention to the designs. Tension moved across his face, from his firm jaw to his thin mouth. Deep concentration perhaps. Or the look of displeasure.

Josie adjusted the copper brooch on her hand-knit royal blue scarf. She should’ve worn her only business suit, a leftover from her marriage. The appearance of power might’ve stiffened her shoulders.

Years ago, she hadn’t been enough. No family had adopted her. They’d rejected her heart, her love and her artwork. Worry slumped over her.

“I’ve seen this before.” Theo sat back and drummed his fingers against the design on top.

Despair drummed through Josie. Not from his words, but from the snide laughter of her inner critic chanting told you so.

Theo had passed judgment. His nose had already turned down, to better look over her. He tapped his finger against the first drawing. His tone was careful and even. “This gown is quite nice.”

Nice. The word tumbled through Josie. He might as well have used bland or boring. Nice created no impression. Offered no viewpoint. There was nothing unique or special about nice.

Josie had also been dubbed nice on her foster paperwork. Nice hadn’t gotten her adopted or helped her find a family who wanted her. As for her clothing designs, her ex had often reminded her that it was nice to have a quaint hobby, but her designs should be tucked away, not worn. Or, even better, donated to charity.

Pull yourself together, Josie. Crumpling the designs and hiding under the table wasn’t an option. She had to compete on Theo’s level. She had to fight. “Can you be more specific?”

He studied her. “There is nothing wrong with nice.”

“There is nothing exceptional about nice, either.” She stayed there, beside Theo, as if this was about more than Theo liking her designs. As if this was about Theo liking her. “You’re just being kind using the word nice.”

“I’m not kind—not in business.” Theo rocked back in his chair. “What do you want me to do? Be blunt.”

“Yes. Tell me the truth.” Tell me why you don’t like me. Tell me why I’m not good enough. No one could ever answer that question.

He reached over and slid the ombré-inspired design toward him. “It is a nice gown.”

Josie groaned. How many times had she heard? It was nice to meet you, Josie. But it was never nice enough for those prospective families to return for her. To take a chance on her.

“Hear me out.” Theo leaned toward her, his gaze pinning her in place. “There’s nothing unexpected in this gown. Nothing in the details that captures the attention and holds onto it.”

Josie glanced at her monochrome sweater and scarf. She’d never wanted to stand out. She’d wanted to be normal, like all the other kids. To blend in. “The details come from the bride.”

“But you’re the designer. This gown is yours to create as you envision it.” Theo tapped his finger on the paper, his tone firm. “It’s your name on the design. It’s your brand.”

“But it’s the bride’s wedding. The brides themselves inspire those unique details.” Josie unwrapped her infinity scarf. The thick blue seemed to be absorbing the negative, not repelling it. But the color blue was supposed to ward off negative energies. At least that was what Mimi had always told her. “Who inspires all the Coast to Coast Living items?”

“Me.”

Josie concentrated on closing her mouth. Surely she’d misheard. Surely the company created for the customer they wished to attract. The image of Theo wrapped in one of their signature fleece blankets, wearing their popular fluffy reindeer socks and drinking their signature hot chocolate from the current season’s Santa mug, was impossible to envision. The tension in his jaw spread to his quiet gaze, locking in his serious expression. Now wasn’t the time to question him. Now was not the time to notice the whisper of pain in his eyes as his gaze slid away from hers.

Now was definitely not the time to become aware of the man beneath the smart dress shirt, slacks and polished business veneer. As for wanting to take Theo’s hand and comfort him—that was surely only a bizarre reaction to the stress of this lunch. Still, Josie held her hands together in her lap. “I need to meet your sister.”

She needed a distraction. A distraction from Theo. She didn’t want to get to know the real Theo Taylor. She only wanted to design a wedding gown for his sister.

He nodded toward the far side of the cafe. “Now’s your opportunity.”

Josie tucked the designs back into her book and smiled at a tall woman, carrying several large shopping bags and a wide grin. Theo completed the introductions and pulled out a chair for his sister.

“Sorry. I was early so I went to the store. Then I got caught up redesigning several of the holiday tables with the staff and now I’m late.” Adriana’s sigh didn’t deflate her enthusiasm. Shopping bags settled on the empty chair beside her, she pulled out her cell phone, tapped the screen and handed the phone to Josie. “I think the displays turned out quite beautiful.”

Josie enlarged a photograph of a rectangular dining-room table, exquisitely set for eight. The natural table runner was stamped with metallic snowflakes and pinecones paired with the royal blue cloth napkins folded inside silver holly-leaf napkin holders. Polished silverware rested on round burlap place mats. Satin chair covers turned ordinary seats into invitations to linger through a five-course meal. Mimi would’ve adored the dancing holiday images scrolled on the plates. The dinnerware would have blended perfectly with Mimi’s collection of whimsical holiday pillows.

Mimi’s house hadn’t been large enough for a formal dining room. The dinner table had been converted to a sewing station long before Josie had moved in. Yet Josie had never lived in a house more welcoming than Mimi’s unconventional, pillbox-size cottage.

Adriana smiled at Josie. “I’d be happy to help design your holiday table, too.”

“No, thank you. The display is lovely though.” But not for people who lived in tiny studio apartments, surrounded by more fabric and thread than collectibles. That table belonged in her ex’s house. Or the Taylors’. Josie handed Adriana’s phone to her. “I’m more of a paper-plate-on-a-TV-tray person.”

“Everything we sell is dishwasher-and microwave-safe.” Adriana picked up the café menu. “Pretty and functional.”

Adriana would require a wedding gown much the same. A beautiful, detailed dress that also allowed her to move among what was certain to be a rather extensive guest list. Strapless or sleeves? Illusion or cap? Strapless allowed for easier movement on the dance floor. Although formal dancing—as in ballroom—expected conservative cuts. The gown had to be effortless, like Adriana.

“Perhaps we should focus on your upcoming marriage.” Theo clenched his hands together on top of his menu. “And your wedding dress, not holiday tables.”

“You’re sounding quite dramatic,” Adriana cautioned.

Theo stilled beside Josie.

Theo and drama were not two words Josie would put together. The Coast to Coast Living brand was accessible to everyone—it was stylish, affordable and obtainable. But there was something remote and stand-offish about Theo now. Something that made him about as inaccessible as if he’d climbed up a tower on the Golden Gate Bridge.

“Weddings cause too much drama.” Disinterest and boredom diluted Theo’s voice.

Or perhaps that was stress he wanted to disguise.

There’d been nothing dramatic or stressful about Josie’s wedding. She’d been married at the courthouse: no veil and a white utilitarian dress. There’d been nothing messy about her divorce, either. The prenup she’d signed to prove she’d loved her ex more than his bank account had turned the end of her four-year marriage into a cold business transaction. She’d walked away, determined to prove she was good enough despite her ex’s claims and the constant echo of the sharp childhood taunts about the poor foster kid she’d once been.

Adriana greeted the waitress. Josie ordered the spinach salad with chicken, despite the knots in her stomach.

Josie had to meet Theo’s exacting standards, whatever those were. She had to succeed not only for herself, but also for Mia and her clients, like Shanna Jennings, who were depending on Josie for their dream wedding gowns. A pinch squeezed along her spine, straining against her shoulders.

The waitress collected the menus and disappeared.

Adriana launched back into the conversation. “You know what you need, Theo? You need to have more fun.”

Theo squeezed a lemon into his ice glass as if watering down his sour tone. “I have enough fun already.”

“Ryan and I are meeting several couples at The Shouting Fiddle later for trivia night.” Adriana ignored her brother’s comment. “You should join us. And you too, Josie.”

Josie envied Adriana’s consideration—they’d only just met. The woman most likely gathered new friends around her like a master gardener filled a greenhouse with special early blooms. And here Josie rarely ventured much beyond her wallflower position.

Josie needed to concentrate on her work. Although, Adriana’s offer tempted. But that was Josie’s former self that still yearned to fit in. To sit at the lunchroom table surrounded by the other girls and not because the teacher had forced the kids to be polite and let Josie sit with them. Josie had only wanted to be part of their inside jokes and weekend stories. To be included.

Adriana wanted to include her now. Yet all Josie heard was the keen bite of her foster sister’s snub: Josie, you wouldn’t want to go to the party, anyway—you don’t even know anyone. What would you do? Stand against the wall all night? You’ll have more fun doodling in your sketch pad.

Josie had graduated from doodles to proper drawings. Now she only wanted her gowns to belong in the design world. Winning over Adriana and Theo was the first step.

Josie stretched her neck, kneading the too-tight muscles and the sting of the past that still pained. “Thank you, but I have appointments this evening.”

“That’s a rather long workday,” Adriana said.

“I like to be available for my working clients,” Josie said. “Their budgets are often tight, even for the brides that have chosen to upscale a vintage gown. I hate to be the reason they have to miss work when every dollar matters.”

Josie helped women like Shanna Jennings—survivors that had earned a second chance and deserved the opportunity to live their dreams. One of her clients often reminded Josie that dreams came true on their own schedule. But to make her clients’ dreams happen, Josie often altered her schedule to accommodate them.

Adriana glanced at Theo. “I’m letting Josie off the hook tonight, but not you.”

“Can I take a rain check?” Theo leaned toward Josie, as if pleased he wasn’t the only one refusing the offer of fun.

“I’ve given you enough rain checks to fill your social calendar every night for over a month, Theo.” Adriana eyed her brother, her voice pensive. “It’s not good to spend so much time alone.”

“Alone has its advantages,” Josie said. She’d grown up alone. She’d earned expert status on how to be alone by the second grade.

“See. I’m not alone.” Satisfaction edged into Theo’s voice. He tipped his water glass toward Josie and grinned. “Josie agrees with me.”

“Perhaps,” Adriana allowed. “But spending time with friends offers its own rewards.”

Growing up, Josie had put herself out there for friends. Many times. The results—those had always been the same. This table is taken. Our study group is full. There’s no room in the car, maybe you can come next time. Eventually, Josie had sought refuge among the books in the library and counted the days until she’d step out of the foster system and into her own life.

But this wasn’t the moment to let old wishes interfere. The only old that signified: antique sequined lace. Besides, alone was what Josie knew best. Time to focus on the bride. “How did you and Ryan meet?”

“Through friends of friends.” Adriana smoothed her napkin across her lap. “Although it was slightly more complicated. There were missed opportunities to meet. Schedule conflicts. Blind dates, but not with each other. Until finally, everything aligned at a hotel bar in Chicago, oddly enough. He was there for a conference. I was there for a buyers’ symposium.”

There was nothing complicated about how Josie had met Theo. He’d walked into her store, judged her unworthy, then tried to dismiss her. Josie had refused to be dismissed. She shifted her gaze toward Theo as the server delivered their meals. Was Theo regretting that decision now?

“Then they fell in love, got engaged and here we are now.” Theo waved his fork as if pushing aside the details. “Ready to discuss my sister’s potential wedding gown.”

Potential. Josie had to work harder. Impress Theo and earn Adriana’s trust. First, she needed the details. Those would surely spark her own inspiration. She’d always had a weakness for a good love story. “How would you describe the love between you and Ryan?”

“Don’t you want to know her favorite color instead?” Theo asked. “Or if she has allergies to certain fabrics? Or what dress length she prefers?”

Josie frowned at him.

Theo sighed and bit into his sandwich. He gestured with his sandwich, as if giving Josie permission to continue the questioning her way.

Had Josie really wanted to hold his hand earlier?

“It’s the kind of love that fills you with starlight and sunbeams. The kind of love that makes you smile even when you’re exhausted and at your lowest.” Adriana glanced at her engagement ring as if the secret was encased in her round-cut diamond.

Josie had felt that kind of love in every all-inclusive hug from Mimi.

“Have you ever experienced this kind of love?” The sigh in Adriana’s voice was the kind that wobbled around good tears…happy tears.

Theo set his unfinished sandwich on his plate and shifted toward Josie as if suddenly invested in the conversation.

“I haven’t, but my clients have.” Josie shook her head and pushed the spinach leaves around her plate. She’d imagined she had that sort of love when she’d recited her marriage vows. But it had never been real. Only a deceptive wish of her broken heart.

“But you want to find love like that one day, don’t you?” Adriana asked.

“I share the experience with my brides.” Josie speared a piece of chicken on her fork. A deep numbness had seized her chest during her divorce. Only then had she realized the truth: love required a part of herself that her childhood had damaged. She’d lost a piece of herself in each of the seven transitions to new foster homes. Her two failed adoptions had smashed her childish hope for parents to call Mom and Dad. Finally, Mimi’s sudden passing had splintered the last of Josie’s heart into unrecognizable pieces. Josie forced herself to smile and added an upbeat note to her voice. “Besides, my work fulfills me. I’m much too busy to even look for love.”

“Once again, Ms. Beck and I agree.” Theo toasted Josie once more.

“Well, I highly recommend falling in love.” Adriana touched her ring and everything about the woman turned blissful, from her green eyes to her soft smile to her relaxed posture. “It’s much better than being alone.”

“I’ll take your word on that.” Josie would let Adriana have love with all its starbursts and sun rays. After all, what did a damaged heart like Josie’s know about a love like that? Josie claimed her knife. “You’re going to be a gorgeous, unforgettable bride.”

“Only if Adriana has an actual wedding dress.” Theo tossed his napkin on his empty plate. A deep frown settled on his face, his focus transitioning from the table to the entrance. “But it appears work has followed us here.”

Adriana turned around and waved at a trio of men. “Barry, Nolan and Timmy recorded their initial footage of me this morning at the offices, then they filmed me at the store. Now it’s your turn, Theo.”

Theo’s frown etched into an even deeper scowl. He stopped the waitress, asked for their bill and stuck cash into the portfolio.

Josie tracked the men. The tallest and leanest held a video camera and an endearing smile. The youngest adjusted a slouchy maroon beanie on his head and worked not to bump his equipment against the other café guests. “Why are you being filmed?”

“It’s a possible business venture. Nothing to concern yourself with.” Theo tucked his wallet in his back pocket and stood. “You’re going to be too busy making the perfect exclusive gown for Adriana. One suitable for a Taylor bride.”

Josie looked at Adriana. The woman’s bright smile only increased Josie’s confusion. Theo had labeled her designs nice and now expected Josie to create an original gown. Josie scrambled to collect her purse and rushed after Theo. He’d already motioned to the men, directing the group back toward the street, his long strides taking him farther away from Josie. Outside, on the sidewalk, she said, “Just to clarify. I’m making Adriana’s wedding dress.” You are choosing nice. You are choosing me.

“I’d like two prototypes by this Sunday.” His unwavering gaze landed on Josie, pinning her in place. He added, “Is that feasible?”

“Yes.” Sunday was four days away. Sunday was her one day to catch up on her projects. Sunday just became another opportunity to prove herself. To be more than nice. “Should I schedule the follow-up appointment with your admin?”

Adriana breezed onto the sidewalk, organizing her shopping bags. She squeezed Josie’s arm with her free hand. “We’ll come to you for a private fitting. That will be fun.” With that, Adriana slipped away to talk to the small film crew.

Josie’s gaze collided with Theo’s and held. Questions bounced against her teeth. Why are you playing me? You don’t even like me. “I look forward to Sunday.”

Theo nodded, then turned, gathering his sister and the three men like a coach calling together his best players. Josie stood outside the café…alone. Inside, her uncertainty and determination battled for control.

She had only four days and her entire afternoon was already booked. Five appointments for winter formal-gown alterations and one to measure for a business suit. She needed to find more time. And standing in place solved nothing.

Josie headed in the opposite direction of the Taylors and the film crew, working her way through the tourists and local lunch crowd. Ahead of her, a children’s store claimed an entire street corner, inviting shoppers of all ages to drop in and look around.

Sequined hats, fancy satin bows and holiday velvet dresses adorned the child mannequins in the store’s window, tempting every little girl to step inside and become their own fairy princess.

Mimi had taken a ten-year-old Josie to similar stores—not to purchase the pretty gowns, but to imagine. To encourage a younger Josie to dream about a different life. Not the one she’d lived—always a short-term visitor in different foster families’ worlds.

She wanted her boutique to be more than a short-term proposition. More than a temporary job. Yet the only permanence she truly understood was constant change.

Josie checked the time on her phone and focused on the present. Alterations and clients waited. This was her life—the one she lived on her own terms. As for the dreaming, she’d leave that for the children. She no longer found it useful.

Turning her back on the children’s clothing store, Josie upped her pace. If she hurried, she’d have a few minutes before her first client arrived. Back at her boutique, Josie opened her design book on the checkout counter, picked up her pencil and summoned her confidence.

She had to create a runway dress so spectacular Theo couldn’t turn his beautifully refined nose up at it. That meant she had to create magic now. Mimi had always believed in magic. The dear woman had hand-stitched fairy gardens into plain, dull fabric and decorated her house with her enchanting creations. Josie had to believe, like Mimi. With the very same soul-deep conviction.

Don’t limit yourself. Think beyond the pattern, Josie. Then you’ll create magic.

Theo most likely disapproved of anyone who believed in magic. What about love? He’d agreed with Josie that work fulfilled him and occupied his time. But he’d never commented on Adriana’s description of love. Did he believe in that sort of love? For reasons she refused to explore, she wanted him to believe. But that wasn’t her concern.

She tapped her pencil against the page as if that would release the magic in her foster mother’s wand. Nothing happened. She’d been generating replications of her clients’ wishes for the past year. Had she misplaced her own perspective? Maybe her creativity had simply expired like a city parking meter. Or like her chance at a real family. That had ended after Mimi’s unexpected illness. Mimi had been the one who’d believed in her. Mimi had encouraged Josie.

Sadness tangled with that familiar knot of misery inside her. Josie dropped her pencil and rubbed her hands over her face.

Scenes of Theo and his sister sharing a look merged with ones of the laughing children in front of the children’s store. She booted up her computer and typed Taylor family in the search bar, then clicked on the images. In every picture, the Taylors were connected: arms around each other, Adriana’s head resting on Theo’s shoulder, arms linked at the elbows. What did a foster kid like Josie know about close-knit families like the Taylors?

The flip side of every project isn’t ever as pretty as the front. Remember, what people show the world isn’t always the full truth. Mimi’s best advice about life had always been shared while they’d sat in rocking chairs on the back porch. Fresh lemonade in tall glasses on the wicker table and the sewing basket perched between them.

Still, every image of the Taylor family appeared more flawless than the last. The bylines included appearances at charity balls, Coast to Coast Living-sponsored events and fund-raising causes. Nothing scandalous. Nothing that suggested the flip side wasn’t as perfect as the front. Theo would expect perfection from the first stitch to the last.

Josie’s confidence unraveled, spooling near her feet. What did she really know about exclusive, A-list designs? She knew how to upscale. How was that ever going to be enough? Could she ever be enough for Theo?

She was more comfortable in secondhand stores than runway shows. Theo dressed like a fashion model clipped from an ad for the smartest business wear. He probably never doubted his choice of attire or his decisions.

The bells on the boutique entrance jangled. Josie closed the case on her laptop, greeted her client and welcomed the reprieve. Surely later she’d find the magic.

As for being enough for Theo Taylor—that wasn’t her goal. And nothing more than a stress-induced musing. Besides, recycled shirts and skirts, no matter how trendy, didn’t belong beside custom-tailored suits and men like Theo.

Four hours later, Josie rose from her knees and rubbed the knot from her back. She eyed the burgundy ball gown on the dress form, unable to rub away her reluctance to finish her client’s requested modifications. The blinding number of crystals and rhinestones Josie tacked onto the gown’s waist glimmered as if mocking Josie for bending to her client’s over-the-top vision. For keeping silent. Her design book, opened to a blank page, waited on the couch, taunting Josie to create. To release her own voice on the page.

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.

Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.

Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».

Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на ЛитРес.

Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.