In Love By Christmas

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 cream.”

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?”

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 the 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.