In Love by Christmas

by Cari Lynn Webb

  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 crea
m.”

  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?”