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Faye had enough on her mind with her own financial situation. Now, all I needed was for Clary to get back to me regarding the list of invited staff. Though I know Ella wanted nothing to do with me, I couldn’t help but hope she received an invitation to the ball.
And that she’dcomeif she got invited.
TWELVE
ella
I linedup the pinned fabric with the three-quarter marking on my sewing machine, pushed the pedal with my foot, and fed the material through as the needle began inching up and down, up and down. Beside me, my roommate, Chloe, worked at her own machine.
Its whirring hum added white noise in our momentary silence. Our friend, Brandy, had also come over to help. We still had several more pillowcases left to make before my too-early bedtime.
When I founded Stitches for Sierra,Sierra had been living in my apartment complex and was dying of leukemia. I’d rounded up as many women as I could with even the tiniest sewing ability to help assemble a quilt in record time for Sierra before she passed away.
Brandy and Chloe were the only two to continue in the organization with me. We were always eager for new ways to help people in need.
Our projects mainly benefited kids at Harmony Children’s, though occasionally, a neighbor or a different need surfaced, and our crew of ladies worked together to create whatever was needed.
Sewing had been a staple at the Embers household. Mom had made all of my clothes while I was growing up. Quilts for my cousins, new dresses for Easter—there was something about the way Mom had done things that felt old-fashioned and yet so perfect all at the same time.
I missed her like crazy, and so I’d kept up with Stitches for Sierra,not only to help kids in need, but to honor Mom, too.
“That should do it,” I said, snipping through the thread on my machine.
I then turned the fabric right-side out, pleased to find the rectangular edging blended perfectly with the pink pillowcase body, which was covered with gingerbread men.
“Some little girl is going to freak out over that one,” Brandy said, pausing over her machine on the opposite end of my kitchen table. Brandy called herself “huggable,” with dark skin and hair and the most gorgeous eyelashes I’d ever seen.
“I know, right? I wish I could see their faces when their pillows are brought in that morning, and they’re not covered in boring white fabric, but spangled in Christmas perfection.”
I’d relished perusing bolt after bolt of colorful, festive fabrics—vibrant reds and greens coveredwith elves, reindeer, or Santa Claus, sparkling blues and purples with glittering snowflakes.
There was something about coordinating colors together that was more satisfying than getting the last piece of pie.
The plan was to deliver the pillowcases a day or two before Christmas so that the staff had time to prepare a pillow for each child.
“It really is a great idea,” Chloe added.
Situated at the counter as she was, she spoke with her back to us. Her blue train-and-wreath-covered pillowcase fabric hung from the edge of the desk near the window. Chloe was of Asian descent, with dark hair and stunning cheekbones.
“Giving is something my mom always did for people,” I said, shrugging off their praise.
Admiration wasn’t why I did this. The memories of Mom’s passing were all too fresh, even after so many years had passed.
The pain, the disbelief, the loneliness. It’d been disheartening. I knew how lonely hours at a hospital could be—especially during the holidays.
While the last ten years without Mom had been a struggle, I’d always found it harder at Christmastime.
Stina could be cordial enough on the surface, but deep down, I knew she hated me. She’d been over the moon when I’d graduated from high school and finally moved out.
At her request.
If I were being honest, I’d been relieved at the separation, too.
Dad was happy with her, which I couldn’t completely fathom. What did I care that he’d gradually allowed Stina to push me out of his life?
For some reason, my thoughts drifted in Hawk’s direction. Seeing him again so unexpectedly, spending time with him on the elevator and witnessing another side of him—a less confident, more human side, probably had something to do with it.
He’d been so different on the elevator. So vulnerable, so real. So less focused with impressing me and just being…himself. I’d liked it more than I realized. I’d liked him. Now more than ever, I hoped he’d text me again, but so far, he hadn’t.
