Cari Lynn Webb

In Love By Christmas


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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