Cari Lynn - In Love By Christmas

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.