EPILOGUE
“DADDY, PLEASE TELL ME a story.” Paul smiled as his three-year-old daughter crawled onto his lap. He glanced out the window to see his parents and Michelle busy decorating the yard for Heather’s coming-home party. It was hard to believe his oldest daughter had completed college at the University of Georgia, earning a degree in business, and was coming home for the summer to help Michelle with her catering business before taking a job in the fall with a corporation in Boston.
“Daddy?”
He glanced down at the bundle of joy in his lap. “Yes, Amy?”
“A story.”
He chuckled. Amy had been born two years after their wedding. Life was better than good. He had two beautiful daughters and a wife he loved more each day.
Heather hadn’t had another asthma attack, but remained on a management plan. Like Michelle, she was now an outreach service coordinator with AANMA.
“What story do you want to hear?” he asked his daughter, who’d been named after Ms. Amy Poole, the town matriarch, who’d been instrumental in getting him and Michelle together.
“The one about the three bears.”
Paul smiled. “All right.”
He was about to begin his narration when he looked up to see Michelle walk in. “I thought I’d come inside and check on you two,” she said, leaning down and placing a kiss on his lips.
“We’re fine. Amy wants to hear the story about the three bears.”
Michelle grinned and said in a low voice, “No need. Look.”
Paul followed Michelle’s gaze to see Amy had fallen asleep in his arms. “Oh, well.”
Michelle smiled. “Yes, oh, well.”
Once they’d tucked Amy into bed, they stood in the doorway of her room and smiled at the sight of her sleeping peacefully. Michelle turned to her husband. “Life has been good.”
Paul nodded as he drew her closer. His mouth curved into a smile. “Yes, it has. Thanks for loving me.”
She leaned closer. “It has been my pleasure.” And she stood on tiptoe, captured his mouth with hers and demonstrated to him just how much.
* * * * *
Dear Reader,
I was honored to be asked to be one of the contributing authors for this year’s More Than Words edition.
From the moment I was introduced to Allergy & Asthma Network Mothers of Asthmatics (AANMA), I was inspired to write a very special love story. And talking to Nancy Sander, the organization’s founder, was like putting the icing on the cake. I learned so much information and gained valuable insight as to the severity of asthma, as well as the support AANMA provides.
Then, in the midst of writing this story, I encountered my own near tragedy when my cousin was rushed to the emergency room, where he spent the next five days fighting for his life after having a severe asthma attack. I was able to share what I’d learned from my research about asthma with family members and friends. And I saw firsthand the importance of having an organization like AANMA.
Paul and Michelle’s story is a very special one and I hope it moves you to help raise awareness and much-needed funds for organizations as admirable as this one. Please visit www.aanma.org to learn more about AANMA.
Happy reading!
Brenda Jackson
JOAN CLAYTON &
INA ANDRE
Windfall Basics
There’s something about stepping into a brand-new skirt or throwing on a new jacket that makes a person feel like a million dollars. Yet for many of those struck by poverty and hardship, new clothing, and the upbeat feeling that accompanies it, is a luxury they’re unlikely to enjoy.
In 1991 Joan Clayton and Ina Andre, two friends from Toronto, Ontario, decided to change that after walking through a local store one day and asking themselves a simple question: What happens to all the stylish clothing that doesn’t sell?
After conducting some research, they arrived at the heartbreaking answer. Many of the brand-new garments ended up in a Dumpster, eventually making their way to a landfill site.
“If there’s surplus out there that nobody wants, you might as well put it to good use,” says Joan today.
The concept was really that simple. Ask clothing manufacturers and retailers to donate clothes they didn’t want or couldn’t sell, and Ina and Joan would distribute them to people who could use them.
Fortunately, it was a tried-and-true concept that had already put their first nonprofit on the map. Six years before, in 1985, Ina and Joan launched Second Harvest to address the growing problem of hunger in Toronto. They took perfectly edible food from restaurants and small grocery stores, which would otherwise be going to waste, and reclaimed it to provide thousands of tasty meals to a number of social services across the city.
At first the clothing venture was small, merely a tangential component of their work at Second Harvest. Ina and Joan drove the clothing around in a station wagon and used their dining rooms as storage space. But while making a dropoff at a shelter for homeless men, they heard a staff member remark, “If you give a man clean underwear, he’ll go take a shower.” The comment struck home and galvanized Ina and Joan to secure start-up funding, gain support from the city’s mayor and the media, and incorporate their new charitable organization as Windfall Clothing Service—all in less than two months.
Soon, fashion heavyweights from Levi Strauss & Co. Canada to Gap Inc. started to give new clothes and funding to Windfall. At one point, two tractor-trailers jam-packed with the previous season’s athletic shoes showed up ready to unload.
“We found out really early in the game that running shoes get thrown out in the garbage because their style changes so rapidly,” says Joan.
“It was incredible. Just amazing,” agrees Ina.
The organization’s growth has been just as astounding. Employing a small but supremely dedicated staff, this past year Windfall ran like a well-oiled sewing machine and processed over nine hundred thousand pieces of clothing, valued at more than twenty-eight million dollars retail. A local trucking distribution company donates shipping, so clothing can shoot around the city and into the hands of the people who need it within forty-eight hours. The timing makes it easier for one hundred social service agencies to distribute the clothing to those caught in the cycle of poverty. Between Second Harvest and Windfall, Joan and Ina’s work and vision, not to mention thousands of hours of volunteer time, have touched the lives of over one million people in Toronto.
“When we had our two hatchback cars and the dining-room table, did we ever think this would be the kind of operation it is now? Of course not,” says Ina.
They have much to be proud of—and much to lament.
“I’m amazed that the need is still so terribly strong. The level of poverty in this very wealthy city has deepened. The people at Second Harvest and Windfall are able to make just a tiny dent,” she explains.
The fact that Windfall gives out new clothes is important, Joan and Ina know. The growing numbers of people living in poverty are used to receiving others’ castoffs and hand-me-downs, but a new item of clothing is difficult to come by.
“But for women going out for a job interview who have never really had anything new and stylish, it’s very special,” Ina declares. “It really boosts self-esteem.”
It also means people who thought they couldn’t even afford to go to job interviews are now agreeing to meet employers in person—and, wearing new clothes to school themselves, their children get an ego boost, too. In fact, Windfall is always searching for new children’s clothes and accessories to deal with the swelling number of financially deprived kids who simply want a pair of jeans that fit, a winter jacket that looks new, or a backpack to carry books and their homework in.
Joan and Ina, now in their late seventies, generally stay at arm’s length from day-to-day activities, but say they’re amazed by the expertise and enthusiasm of Helen Harakas, their executive director, who recently added Windfall’s KIDPACKS to their Clothes for Kids program. With the help of volun
teers and media, last year Windfall distributed twelve hundred backpacks filled with school supplies, so fewer children would have to carry schoolbooks home in plastic bags.
“This way they’re like all the other kids,” states Ina, who lets slip that Joan was elbow-deep in pencils and rulers the day they stuffed the bags.
Joan does seem to have endless supplies of energy. She moved heavy boxes around warehouse floors into her sixties, and today volunteers with the Labyrinth Community Network, which created and maintains one of the first labyrinths in a Canadian public park in downtown Toronto. Anyone can use a labyrinth for reflection and meditation. In 2004 Joan was awarded the Order of Canada and an honorary Doctor of Civil Law from the University of King’s College in Halifax, Nova Scotia.
As for Ina, she recently retired as a student liaison at a theater school and is going to continue her work with Second Harvest in a public relations capacity. She is also hunting for another charity that speaks to her need to help people and add dignity, grace and independence to their lives.
“I’m still looking for an organization that will capture my imagination and need my support,” she says, “but not my arms or my back!”
For more information, visit www.windfallbasics.com or write to Windfall, 29 Connell Court, Unit 3, Toronto, ON, M8Z 5T7, Canada.
IT’S NOT ABOUT
THE DRESS
Stephanie Bond
STEPHANIE BOND
Stephanie Bond grew up on a farm in eastern Kentucky, but traveled to distant lands through stories between the covers of Harlequin romance novels. Years later, when Stephanie was several years into a corporate computer programming career, the writing bug bit her, and once again she turned to romance. In 1997 Stephanie left her corporate job to write women’s fiction full-time. Her writing has brought her full circle, allowing her to travel in person to distant lands to teach workshops and promote her novels. To date she’s written more than forty wonderful projects for Harlequin, such as short stories, novellas and full-length novels, including a romantic mystery series for the MIRA imprint called Body Movers. To learn more about Stephanie Bond and her novels, visit: www.stephaniebond.com.
DEDICATION
To my mother, Bonnie Bond,
for all that she does and for all that she is.
Contents
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
Dear Reader
CHAPTER
ONE
CHLOE PARKER LOOKED in the mirror and her eyes welled with tears. “It’s absolutely perfect.” Melinda, the owner of Melinda’s Bridal Shop, handed her a tissue and grabbed one for herself. “All the consultations, all the fittings, all the phone calls, all the times I wanted to fire you as a client—it was all worth it. You look like a fairy princess.”
Chloe dabbed at her eyes and sighed at the reflection of the wedding gown that had been customized under her close supervision. Featuring a fitted bodice with delicate boning, a sweetheart neckline, short puff sleeves and a ballerina skirt with a six-foot-long train, the stunning garment had been fashioned from the finest Italian silk in a shade of white chosen specifically to complement her skin tone and dark hair. Clear Austrian crystals, each hand set and applied, sparkled from the full skirt, as well as the airy veil and matching silk mules.
It was the wedding dress that Chloe had dreamed of since she was a little girl—magical. The kind of dress that would set the mood for the wedding and for her marriage. How could any woman not be deliriously happy to walk down the aisle in this fanciful dress?
“I wish I could wear it every day until the wedding,” she said with a sigh.
“What you do in your own apartment is your business,” Melinda said slyly.
“No.” Chloe shook her head. “I’ve waited this long, I can wait another twenty-one days.”
Melinda picked up Chloe’s left hand to study the sizable cluster of diamonds on her ring finger. “You’re a lucky woman—the perfect dress and the perfect groom.”
Chloe nodded in agreement. Dr. Ted Snyder was a sought-after cosmetic dentist, young and handsome, with impeccable manners and good breeding—not to mention amazing teeth. The engagement ring he’d had made for her still had tongues wagging in Toronto social circles—especially gratifying to Chloe, who had grown up outside of the “in” crowd.
“Everyone says your wedding is going to be the event of the year.”
“That’s my plan,” Chloe said with a grin. From her bag her cell phone rang. She lifted the skirt of her dress and tiptoed over, leaning carefully so as not to wrinkle the silk, then pulled out her phone. “Chloe Parker Events Planning.”
“Hi—this is Ann Conway.”
Chloe glanced at her watch. “Hi, Ann. I’ll be there in twenty minutes to double-check all the decorations for the birthday party and to meet the caterer. Is everything okay?”
“Actually, no. The magician just called to cancel.”
Chloe frowned, but managed to inject a carefree tone into her voice. “I’m sure it’s a mix-up of some kind, Ann. Just relax and I’ll take care of everything.” She disconnected the call, then consulted her day planner and punched in the phone number for Morton Green, aka Morton the Magnificent.
“Hello?”
“Hello, Morton, it’s Chloe Parker.”
“Chloe,” he said, his voice squeaking nervously. “About the Conway boy’s birthday party—”
“Morton, I told you never to cancel with a client directly.”
“I’m sorry. I was afraid you’d be mad at me.”
She could picture the middle-aged man cringing. “Wrong, Morton. I’m not mad because you’re not canceling. I’ll be at the Conways’ house in twenty minutes, and you’d better have your magic butt there, too.”
“Chloe, my assistant is sick—I can’t go on without her.”
“Then find someone else.”
“Who am I going to find on such short notice?”
“That’s your problem. I’ve never not delivered a talent act for a party, and I’m not going to start today. My reputation is like gold to me.”
“What size do you wear?” Morton asked.
“I beg your pardon?”
“If you can fit into the assistant’s size-eight outfit, you can do the show with me.”
“I don’t think so.”
“It’s up to you,” Morton said in a singsongy voice. “How far are you willing to go to preserve that fourteen-karat reputation of yours?”
Chloe screwed up her mouth, then rolled her eyes. “I draw the line at being sawed in half.”
“See you there.”
She disconnected, then sighed. It wasn’t the first time she’d gone above and beyond the call of duty to preserve her standing as one of the top events planners in Toronto, and it probably wouldn’t be the last. She took a last wistful look at herself in the glorious dress. “Melinda, will you unzip me? I have to run.”
“At least this time you get to take the gown with you,” the woman said.
“I know. I’m so excited just to be able to look at it whenever I want.”
Melinda lowered the long back zipper. “You’re not going to show it to Ted, are you?”
“I don’t know. Maybe.”
“You can’t let the groom see the wedding gown before the wedding! It’s bad luck.”
Chloe gave a little laugh as Melinda eased the silk from her shoulders. “I’m not superstitious...but apparently I do believe in magic.”
“Hmm?”
“Never mind. I have to go save a birthday party.”
“That’s why you’re in demand,” Melinda said, helping her step out of the garment. “I’ll bag the dress, veil and shoes, and write up your final receipt.”
Chloe couldn’t help but notice that the woman was a little giddy, and nursed a fleeting pang of remorse for
all the hoops she’d made Melinda jump through in this quest for the perfect dress. She suspected the woman would be glad to see her and the gown on their merry way.
After quickly dressing, Chloe emerged from the changing room and went to the counter to pay the final installment. The gown’s hefty price tag reflected the time and effort put into the exquisite creation.
Melinda happily handed over Chloe’s credit card and the receipt to sign, then jogged around the counter and took the bag down from the hook. “Allow me to carry it to your car.”
“That’s okay, I got it,” Chloe said, slipping her finger through the hanger and holding it up high. “I’ll miss seeing you, Melinda.”
The seamstress pasted on a wide smile. “Good luck with your wedding.”
Chloe strode to her van and hung the dress inside, feeling philosophical and unapologetic for the fuss she’d caused. Her wedding would be the feather in her cap, the best advertisement for her growing events coordinating business, an example of everything she could do for a client—from finding the most unique floral arrangements to the finest videographer to the most perfectly trained white doves to exit the church on cue. Her wedding would be proof that she would do almost anything to ensure a client’s happiness.
She glanced at her watch, frustrated that she was going to be late. A delivery truck sat in front of her with its right signal on, waiting to turn. When the traffic light changed to green and the truck still didn’t move, Chloe muttered, “Come on,” and honked her horn loudly several times.
A long arm emerged from the driver’s side, waving her around. She pulled up alongside the truck, which read Windfall Clothing Service, as the driver emerged from the cab to jump down and inspect a flat tire. Chloe felt a pang of regret for honking at his misfortune. He looked up as she drove slowly past, and she locked gazes with him.
More Than Words: Acts of Kindness: Whispers of the HeartIt's Not About the DressThe Princess Shoes Page 7