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Even though I had the next morning off at Ever After, my body hadn’t gotten the message. Routine was too embedded in me.
My body sensed when eight o’clock that night struck.
“Morning comes too soon,” I said, leaving my piles in their places. I’d gotten through a few. It wouldn’t take much at all to finish them tomorrow.
With getting the new pillowcases finished and to the hospital in time, and with my gown in pieces, my date with Hawk Danielson was becoming a distant, unreachable fantasy.
My gown filled my dreams. I fantasized showing up at Ever After Corporate, making a grand entrance in my beautiful dress while its train flowedbehind me.
I imagined capturing Hawk’s attention, being swept into his arms and thoroughly kissed.
The dream hung around my neck, whispering even after I woke on Christmas Eve, even after I ate my puffed rice cereal and began pinning and sewing all over again.
The morning passed quickly, thanks to being able to sleep in for the first time in years and the noise of my sewing machine’s needle chugging in time to Christmas music. “Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas”was always my favorite. It reminded me of the movie it originally premiered from:Meet Me in St. Louis.
Memories surfaced of sewing with Mom and Grammy. They’d made quilts and clothes, all while playing old movies and musicals in Grammy’s living room.
I’d played beneath the quilt frames, watching needles being guided in and out of the fabric to create delicate lines and patterns. I’d run my fingers along the quilting, loving the feel of the cloth puffing out just enough alongside it, listening to the lighthearted laughter and intriguing conversation between Mom and Grammy.
It was a life I’d loved. A fortunate, priceless upbringing.
Mom was gone, which only made me cherish the memories more.
Maybe I should have called Grammy Carroll up to ask for help. She would have done so willingly.
Too late now.
I sewed and sewed, stopping only for drinks and bathroom breaks. By three p.m., I hemmed the last pillowcase.
“Done,” I said, exasperated as I flopped back into the seat.
My back ached. My hands were tired. My eyes could no longer focus.
At least I didn’t have to stitch these by hand.
In a rush and using up my last spurt of energy, I folded each pillowcase, wrapped them carefully, individually, and then boxed the presents into a manageable container before making my way to the hospital.
I was ragged by the time I got back home, and I still hadn’t decided what to do about Hawk.
I reallyreallywanted to go to the ball. But as my gown was currently in pieces on the table, I didn’t know who to ask to borrow one from. I could buy one, but I had more exhaustion than energy left, so I gave in to the regret souring my stomach.
Reluctantly, I dialed his number.
“I could get used to this,” Hawk said, answering with a smile in his tone.
His voice lifted me despite my sadness. “To what?”
“You calling me.”
A fist tightened around my stomach. I hated to go on. I wanted to flirt with him. To talk about how excited I was.
I didn’t want to bail.
“I have some bad news.”
“Hit me with it. I’ll help you figure out whatever it is.”
How cute was that?
