“That’s so cool,” Cassidy exclaimed, and then she started to tell them about her idea to offer veterinary care to shut-ins. “I’m making house calls,” she said eagerly. “Mostly to elderly people who are barely getting by. They all live in the same low-income housing. A sweet old lady named Dorothy Morgan keeps finding them for me. I’ve mostly been doing vaccinations and well-being checks. But the people are so appreciative. It’s really fun. I wish I could do it full-time.”
“So you’re doing this for free?” Belinda asked with interest.
Cassidy nodded, then sipped her tea.
“That’s so generous,” Belinda told her.
“The pet owners are so grateful—yet I feel like I’m getting more out of it than they are. But they really do love their pets. And veterinary care is too expensive for their fixed-income budgets.”
“And who pays for the vaccines and such?” Louisa asked with a concerned look.
“I do.” Cassidy smiled. “I found a good, reputable website, and I’ve started ordering supplies online.”
“But how can you afford that?” Louisa asked. “Especially when you’re only working half-time?”
“I’m an angel,” Cassidy said in a teasing tone. “The good Lord provides, right?”
“But you don’t want to deplete your own finances,” Belinda said gently. “You’re a single woman, so you need to watch out for yourself.”
Cassidy smiled brightly. “Don’t worry, I’m being careful.” She pointed back at Belinda. “How about you? What sort of angelic project have you taken on?”
Belinda grinned. “I was hoping you’d ask.” She told them about the exciting fashion show project she was putting together with the new principal at McKinley High. “It was actually his idea to get these girls some fashion help,” she explained. “Their clothing was . . . well, as Emma would say, it was pretty skanky.”
Everyone laughed.
“Anyway, the girls met with me and really got on board. Savannah and I have been putting together outfits, and the tickets are selling and, well, it’s been going really well.”
“It sounds like fun,” Louisa said.
“It’s been surprisingly fun,” Belinda said happily. “Oh, sure, it’s work too. But it feels so good to be helping these girls. I’ve been having them come in for their fittings separately. Only four so far. But it gives me a chance to talk to them one-on-one.” She sighed. “Some of them come from some pretty troubled homes. It’s no wonder they don’t care about their appearance. And they’re so hungry for positive attention.” She looked hopefully at the group. “Which reminds me, I was hoping I could get some of you to help.”
“How?” Louisa asked.
“At the fashion show. It’s the Saturday before Christmas in the Amber Room. Anyway, it’ll be kind of crazy behind the scenes. And I realize the whole thing could fall completely apart and turn into a disaster. So I could use a few more assistants. Helping the girls into the outfits and with their hair and makeup, and to keep everything moving smoothly, you know?”
Louisa and Cassidy both offered to help, but Grace simply sat there, saying nothing and feeling painfully close to tears. “I’d offer to help too,” she blurted, “but I’m so—so overwhelmed—I’m not even sure I can do the project I agreed to do.” The dam broke and she started to cry. The others gathered around her on the sectional, trying to comfort her and encouraging her to tell them what was wrong.
Finally, after blowing her nose, she explained about agreeing to decorate the living rooms of three Habitat homes. “But I thought they meant I was supposed to decorate them for Christmas—you know, put up a tree and some lights and greens and stuff. I didn’t realize I was expected to fill three living rooms with donated furnishings and décor! I’ve spent the last four days calling all over and driving around town, trying to solicit donations. But it’s not coming together. Not at all. Furniture stores are being really stingy and tight. Some are offering discounts, but I can’t afford to purchase everything myself. And it is turning into—it’s a big fat mess.” She started to cry again.
“Is there some way we can help you?” Cassidy asked her.
“I—I don’t really know how,” Grace stammered. “Unless you know someone who wants to donate furniture pieces. Enough for three rooms.”
The room got quiet.
“How about if we pray for you,” Louisa said gently. “Since we’re trying to be angels, it seems appropriate.”
“That’s what Abby would do,” Cassidy added.
“That’s right,” Belinda agreed.
Grace wasn’t sure that would make any difference, but simply nodded and bowed her head, waiting as each of them quietly said a short prayer for her. “Amen,” Louisa said when they finished. “And now, as my mother used to say, let’s add some legs to our prayers.”
“How’s that?” Grace asked.
“Well, I have some things I can donate. I stored some items in our attic, nice pieces, but they didn’t really fit into our new home. I convinced myself that Matthew and Leah would want them eventually. Of course, they didn’t. Anyway, I’d be happy to let you have them for your project if you like.”
“Thank you!” Grace exclaimed.
“Hey, I’ve got a bunch of stuff in storage,” Cassidy said suddenly. “It’s so ridiculous paying for the storage unit every month. But I didn’t know what to do with everything. It was from when my mom died . . . you know.”
“And you really don’t want it?” Grace asked hopefully.
“I’m sure there are mementos that I’ll want to hold on to,” Cassidy clarified. “Antiques and a few odds and ends. But not the furnishings. I mean they’re nice and everything, but they’re pretty traditional. Not my style. It was Abby’s idea to put it all in there and deal with it later. But later never came. And I keep shelling out the monthly payments.” She brightened. “That’s money I could be using for pet meds.”
“Well, I won’t say no to anything,” Grace told them. “And maybe I could help you sort through the unit for your own place. Help you figure out what you could use in your condo to make it more your style.”
“That’d be great.”
“And I have a few things too,” Belinda told her. “You know me and flea markets. I’m there to look for clothes and I often come home with other things I don’t need. Can’t resist a bargain.” She laughed. “You should see my storage room in the back of the shop. Stuff I thought I’d use to decorate. But mostly it gathers dust and gets in the way.”
“I will gladly take anything you guys have to offer,” Grace said gratefully. “And then I’ll hope and pray I can arrange it all into three livable designs.” But as Grace imagined the odds and ends she’d manage to collect from her friends, combined with the few items she’d already had donated, all she could envision was a mishmash of varying styles of cast-off furnishings that would probably be classified as “early garage sale.”
At least the new homeowners would have something to sit on. Or so she hoped. As far as her reputation as a designer, well, there was no point fretting over that. When it was all said and done, Grace Westland would look like a complete failure—and maybe she deserved it. At least everyone would know the truth—that she was a fraud.
10
Grace arranged to go to Louisa’s house first thing on Friday morning. Ironically, Louisa was donating some of the same pieces that Grace had felt were wrong for their new house back when she’d done the interior design nearly ten years ago. “I feel guilty,” she confessed after she’d marked the pieces to be removed from the attic.
“Whatever for?” Louisa demanded. “I’m glad to be rid of these things.”
“Because they’re nice pieces, but I’m the one who discouraged you from using them in this house.”
Louisa just laughed. “Don’t forget that I’m the one who hired you. I wanted a fresh interior design for our new house—and I loved what you did for us.” She set one of the table lamps on an end table. “I had no idea our econ
omy was going to tank shortly thereafter.”
“Well, thank you for your donation.” She handed Louisa one of the tax-deductible receipts that Habitat had given her. “I’m sure it will be appreciated.” As they went back downstairs, Grace told her about the other family she’d met. “It was a couple in their sixties with an adult daughter with Down syndrome. Really sweet people and so happy to own their first home.”
“Their first home in their sixties?” Louisa shook her head. “I guess we can be thankful.”
“Yes, I’ve been thinking similar thoughts.” Grace sighed. “Anyway, my moving guys should be around this afternoon with a truck to pick up the furniture. Is that okay?”
“I’ll be here all day.” Louisa smiled. “I’m actually working on a painting.”
“Really? You’re painting again?”
Louisa nodded eagerly. “Would you like to see it?”
“I’d love to.”
Louisa led Grace into her painting studio, where Grace admired the beginnings of a winter farm scene. “It’s beautiful, Louisa. You haven’t lost your touch.” She glanced around the studio, where various works were leaning against the walls and cabinets. “What are your plans for these other paintings? Are you going to have a showing someday?”
Louisa laughed. “Hardly. Those are my rejects.”
“Rejects?” Grace picked up a still life, a mason jar of sunflowers, and studied it. “I could put this to use in a Habitat house.”
“Then take it,” Louisa told her. “Take any of them.”
Feeling like she’d struck the mother lode, Grace selected several that she knew would be assets. “I’ll get them framed and they will be lovely.”
“Glad to help.” Louisa winked. “Makes more room for me to create and store my new masterpieces.”
Cassidy met Grace at her storage unit after she finished work shortly after noon. She would’ve rather been making a house call right now, but she knew that emptying this unit would be worth the time it would take. Hopefully not more than a few hours.
“I haven’t looked inside here for years,” she confessed as she raised the door. “Might be infested with rats by now.”
“According to the sign in front, this place is rodent-free,” Grace pointed out.
“Right.” Cassidy flicked on the light switch and, gazing over the piles of stuff, immediately felt overwhelmed. “Where do we begin?”
“Right here.” Grace started moving things, making a pathway through the center. “I’m glad it’s not raining today. We can set stuff out there. Then we’ll load anything you’re certain you don’t want into the moving van and I’ll sort it out later. Some will go in the new houses and some will be donated to Habitat Restore. Okay?”
“Works for me.” Cassidy went over to an old trunk that, according to her mom, had been in the family for generations. “I’ll definitely want to keep this.” She removed a box from on top of it. “I think it might even look good in my condo.”
“Progress!” Grace declared.
As the two of them worked together, sifting and sorting and hauling pieces into the back of the moving van, they talked. It wasn’t long until Cassidy found herself confessing to Grace the sort of things she normally reserved for Abby.
“You are not fat!” Grace declared after they’d shoved a hutch into the van. “I don’t want to hear you say that again, Cassidy. You’re just a sturdily built girl. And look how strong you are. I never could’ve gotten that in there without you.”
“Well, guys like skinny chicks,” Cassidy said as she wiped her hands on the back of her jeans.
“That is not true.” Grace firmly shook her head. “I was a skinny chick when I married Joel, and he confessed that he liked it better when I put on some weight after having the twins. And I know he was being honest. Besides, I’ve read surveys where the majority of guys say they prefer curvy girls over skinny ones. So don’t believe that old lie.”
Cassidy frowned. “But Dorothy Morgan—that’s one of my house-call clients and a good friend—invited me over to meet her grandson tonight, and she’s been talking me up to him like I’m some kind of prize. He’s probably expecting some blonde bombshell and—”
“Stop putting yourself down, Cass.”
“I know . . . it’s dumb. But old habits are hard to break.”
“You have so much to offer a guy. You’re smart and funny and kind. You’ve got an education and a career.” She tweaked Cassidy’s ponytail. “And if you fixed yourself up a little, you could really turn his head.”
“You sound exactly like Abby.”
“Thank you.” Grace smiled triumphantly.
By the time they were done, only a couple hours later, Cassidy was relieved to have emptied the storage unit—but even more than that, she was happy to have made a real friend. She and Grace had been friendly acquaintances before, but they’d never been close. Not like she’d felt today. This was something new—and it felt good.
Belinda had finished her last after-school fitting with a high school girl when Cassidy burst into her shop. “You gotta help me,” Cassidy said with tear-filled eyes.
“What on earth is it?” Belinda demanded as she laid down her notebook.
Cassidy held out a wrinkled white bundle. “The cats killed her.”
“Killed who?” Belinda stared at her in horror.
“My angel. I don’t know how it happened, but sometimes the cats get pretty crazy when I’m gone. Anyway, when I got home after emptying my storage unit with Grace, I found this.”
Belinda peeled back the tissue paper to see mangled pieces of lace, ribbon, and fabric—what was left of Cassidy’s angel ornament. “Oh, Cassidy, I’m so sorry.”
“Can you fix her? You’re the best seamstress I know. You’ve got to put her back together.”
Belinda laid the pieces on the countertop, starting to rearrange them and seeing some pieces were missing. Probably ingested by Cassidy’s devilish felines. “I think so.” She made a sad smile. “You’ll have to leave the patient with me overnight though.” As she fiddled with what was left of the angel, she touched something stiff underneath the angel’s tattered dress. It felt like a small roll of paper. Out of curiosity, she removed the tiny scroll, seeing it was tied with a thin gold thread. “Look.” She held it out to Cassidy. “Looks like something’s printed on it.”
Cassidy unrolled the miniature scroll, studying it carefully before she read the words aloud. “‘I praise you, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made. Wonderful are your works; my soul knows it very well.’ Psalm 139:14.” She looked up at Belinda. “Wow, that’s pretty cool.”
“Abby must’ve put that there for you, Cassidy. Like a secret message.”
“Yeah.” Cassidy continued to stare down at the words. “I like that verse.”
“Do you believe what it says?” Belinda asked gently. “That God made you, that he made you wonderfully?”
Cassidy looked up with misty eyes. “To be honest, I’m not so sure. I’d like to believe it.” She sighed. “It’s ironic. Only this afternoon Grace lectured me about something like this. She said to stop putting myself down.”
“Grace said that?” Belinda was surprised.
“Yeah. It was kind of like listening to Abby.”
“Well, good for Grace.” Belinda honed in on Cassidy’s appearance now. As usual, she had on her veterinary scrubs, and her hair was pulled back in a tight ponytail. “I’m really into makeovers these days,” Belinda said lightly. “You know, for the upcoming fashion show.”
“Uh-huh?”
“How about I give you one?” Belinda made a hopeful smile.
“Me?” Cassidy blinked. “You want me in your fashion show?”
“Well, that wasn’t what I meant. But if you wanted to—”
“No way!”
“Fine. I meant a plain old makeover. Just for the fun of it.” Belinda grabbed Cassidy by the hand, calling out to Savannah. “We’ll be in the back room—watch the shop.” She led Cassidy b
ack to the station she’d set up for the fashion show fittings, complete with its dressing table, makeup samples, hair tools, and accessories, as well as a few other goodies. “You take down that ponytail and I’ll be back in a few minutes.”
Without waiting to hear protests, Belinda dashed out to speak to Savannah, explaining her impromptu plan and estimating Cassidy’s clothing sizes. “You gather up a casual but stylish outfit that you think might work for a blue-eyed blonde. Keep in mind she’s a no-frills, low-maintenance sort of girl. Do your best and bring it back to me ASAP.”
Savannah grinned like she was eager for a new fashion challenge. As she headed for the racks, Belinda scurried back to start work on Cassidy, hoping her frowsy friend hadn’t made a quick escape out the back door.
“What are you going to do?” Cassidy asked nervously, shaking her long hair out.
“Something Abby had been wanting to do for ages.”
“Oh.” Cassidy frowned.
“Trust me, Cass.”
Cassidy’s shoulders relaxed a bit as she leaned back in the chair. “Okay . . .”
As Belinda brushed out her thick hair, she explained what she felt it needed, but when she pulled out her scissors and comb, Cassidy looked genuinely frightened. “I used to be a hairdresser,” Belinda confessed. “I’m not licensed now, but I’m not charging you either, so it’s okay. I promise.”
“What are you going to do?” Cassidy asked for the second time.
“I want to feather in some bangs and some gentle wisps along the sides to soften it up. Maybe a bit of layering since your hair’s so thick. But don’t worry, I’m leaving the length in the body of it. I know you’re a ponytail girl and you can still do that, but, honestly, you need to let this gorgeous hair down sometimes. Really, you’ve got such beautiful hair, Cass. Thick and healthy. And do you know how rare natural blondes are? Anyway, we want to soften it up—make it frame your face.”
The Christmas Angel Project Page 8