In Love by Christmas

by Cari Lynn Webb

  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 th
e 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 s
pecific 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.”