Rosie smoothed the material. Her manicured nails perfectly matched her hair, and her huge diamond engagement ring flashed with her movements. “Reindeer pulling a sleigh driven by Santa and delivering me to my lucky groom,” she continued, her well-preserved face lighting up with excitement as she shimmied her body a little. Morgan and her cousin Sophie shared an amused look.
“Your wedding is less than two months away. Where are you going to find trained reindeer to pull a sleigh?” Morgan’s Grammy Claudia asked, frowning at her lifelong friend who kept upsizing what she wanted for her wedding.
“The North Pole might have a few to spare,” Sophie replied, obviously unable to resist getting into the spirit of things.
Sophie and her sister, Isabelle, owned the quilt shop on the town square. They were avid supporters of an organization that made quilts for military servicepeople, past and present, to thank them and welcome them home. Morgan had never heard of Quilts of Valor Foundation prior to moving to Pine Hill, but as the daughter of military parents, she had the utmost respect for all those who served, so she had volunteered to help prepare for the upcoming event. Plus, she enjoyed being with her family and their friends.
“You should have gotten married on the Fourth of July, as you’d led your so-called lucky groom to believe,” Maybelle Kirby said drily as she cut a strip of the stretched-out material. The older woman was classically beautiful. Likely in her seventies, she took great care with her appearance and overall presentation. She’d always reminded Morgan of an older Grace Kelly. If Pine Hill had royalty, Maybelle would be queen. Despite lacking an official title, there was a perpetual regal aura that clung to the woman. Even as a little girl, during her holiday visits, Morgan recalled being a bit in awe of Maybelle.
“If we’d gotten married in July, the ice sculptors refused to guarantee that the candy cane carvings would hold up throughout the ceremony. And then where would we be?” Rosie asked with an isn’t it obvious? expression.
“In deep water,” Isabelle suggested with an amused eyeroll from where she leaned against the shop’s counter watching them. Sophie was all Christmas sunshine but her sister was usually all business, so Isabelle’s joke had Morgan smiling.
“You’d be married,” Maybelle deadpanned as she handed Sophie another stack of cut material strips. Sophie was going to run them all through a special cutting machine that had dies to cut particular patterns.
“Not doing more last-minute wedding planning,” Grammy Claudia added, shaking her head as she laid perfectly cut fabric squares onto a growing stack. Her gray hair was tucked so securely in a bun that it didn’t even wobble. “Maybe you and Lou should elope and be done with this wedding business.”
Her heavily-but-tastefully made-up eyes widening, Rosie gasped. “And deprive Pine Hill of the privilege of attending our winter wonderland wedding?” She ran her fingers through her azure hair. The punk rock shade of blue fit the feisty woman.
“Go ahead. Deprive us,” Maybelle encouraged.
Rosie pouted. “Why, Maybelle Kirby, you should be ashamed of yourself for even suggesting such a thing. You know perfectly well that our friends and family would never forgive us.”
“We’d forgive,” Maybelle assured her, cutting more material strips. “Forgive and be grateful the hoopla had ended. That poor man doesn’t realize he’s getting coal this Christmas.”
Morgan’s gaze met Sophie’s again, and she fought to keep from laughing at the older women’s bickering.
“Coal is just immature diamonds, and this girl has always been all sparkles,” Rosie informed in her most Southern accent, gesturing to her blingy poinsettia sweater and gold leggings.
“You are a bit rough around the edges,” Ruby teased as Rosie strutted her stuff at the end of the cutting table.
“Oh, phooey on you old biddies,” Rosie fussed at her friends. She shooed them away and picked up the rotary cutter she’d been slashing material strips with before her latest wedding discussion distraction. “We’re talking about my wedding day. I want it to be special, something the town will always remember.” Rosie fluttered her lashes. “I mean, how many times does a girl get to marry the man of her dreams?”
Maybelle cleared her throat and the other women in the room all avoided making eye contact. Rosie shot her a narrow-eyed look but continued on as if there had been no unsubtle reminder that this wasn’t her first walk down the aisle.
“Y’all are such Scrooges. But no matter. I’m going to have the most Christmas-y Christmas wedding in the history of Pine Hill,” Rosie declared. “So much so that people will be talking about how marvelous it was for years—no, decades—to come.” Rosie’s raspberry-pink lips curled upward. “And you ladies are going to help make my day special with no more complaints.”
“I’ve not heard any complaints.” Ruby said, glancing around at the other women. “You heard any complaints, Claudia?”
Morgan’s grandmother shook her head. “Butterflies do not complain.”
Morgan smiled at the name the women had given to their group of friends. She wasn’t sure why or where they’d come up with the name, but they’d been known far and wide as the Butterflies for decades.
For all their good-natured squabbling, with Greyson in school, there was nowhere Morgan would rather be than here with these women at her cousins’ sewing shop. Her childhood had been full of wonderful memories of them during every holiday vacation to Pine Hill from wherever her parents had been currently stationed. These ladies had always been around, making life interesting, and always making Christmas magical.
This, she thought, was why she’d moved to Pine Hill two months ago. In Pine Hill, she had her grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins, and these ladies. Morgan was in Pine Hill to make a new start for her and Greyson. One that was filled with family, love, and community.
And Christmas.
She was determined to give Greyson the best Christmas of his young life to make up for the previous two years when they’d barely celebrated. That first year after losing Trey, they’d been in shock. Last Christmas, the lights and decorations had just seemed to open wounds.
“Okay, sleigh pulled by reindeer,” Ruby said. “Got it. We can talk to Mr. Harvey and see if he can make arrangements for his horses to be replaced by reindeer. Does one need to have a red nose just in case it’s a foggy night?” Obviously amused at her own question, she giggled in the cutest old lady way.
“Laugh if you will, but I’m being serious. I want our wedding to be straight from a fairy tale. Like something you’d see in the movies and think, Oh, I wish I were there.”
In the short time Morgan had been in town, she was convinced Lou was so crazy about his bride-to-be he’d do his best to give her whatever she wanted. Especially since she’d put off the wedding several times already over various concerns, some real and some not so real. No way would he give her any excuse to put their wedding off yet again. If Rosie insisted on reindeer, Morgan suspected he really would book a flight to the North Pole if it came down to it. Anything to get Rosie headed down that aisle to him.
“If you’re marrying the right man, the wedding itself doesn’t matter so much.” Ruby smiled, obviously thinking of her own wedding. “My Charlie and I had a simple church wedding in the middle of June. Nothing could have been more perfect than seeing that precious man waiting at the front of the church for me. Fifty years later and not once have I regretted marrying him.”
