“Agreed.” Maybelle gave her verdict, and the ladies sang more of Sophie’s fiancé’s virtues.
Initially, Isabelle hadn’t been convinced, but Cole had won her over. Now, Isabelle trusted him with Sophie’s future happiness and well-being. Mostly. She’d keep vigilance on protecting her impulsive sister long after Sophie had walked down the aisle. Ha, she’d likely still be slaying dragons on Sophie’s behalf when they were Butterfly-aged. It was what she’d always done to protect her prone-to-getting-into-situations younger sister.
Rising from where she’d gathered the snowman pincushions, Isabelle slid the packages onto their metal hooks, repeatedly glancing toward theEmployees Onlydoor at the back of the shop. What was taking Sophie and Aunt Claudia so long? All they’d had to do was slip the dress over Sophie’s head and zip the zipper.
With a Butterfly-made pink quilt draped over her shoulder, Sarah cooed at the five-month-old baby she nursed. “I can’t wait to have this little sweetie’s picture made with Santa Cole. Bodie and I will treasure pulling it out to display each Christmas.”
“Of course you will. Now, finish feeding my god-granddaughter so I can love on my Jeannie May,” Maybelle pointed out, pursing her lips and giving Sarah an expectant look.
Sarah had named her daughter after her belated Aunt Jean and Maybelle. Maybelle and Jean had been best friends right up until Sarah’s aunt had passed from pneumonia a few years back. Maybelle and the Butterflies had taken Sarah under their wings and were doing the same with Jeannie. Ha, the ladies seemed to have the entire town under their matronly wings. Thank goodness Isabelle managed, for the most part, to stay on the outskirts of their good-intentioned, but interfering, ways.
“What makes you think you get to hold Jeannie first?” Rosie frowned at Maybelle, flashing her diamond as her hand went to her hips.
“That cutie pie doesn’t want to look at your Jack Frost-colored hair right after she eats.”
“Humph.” Rosie gave Maybelle a down-her-nose sneer. “I’m like a Rockefeller Center Christmas tree with a beautiful blue star on top and you’re that pitiful one branch, no leaves twig from that seventies dog cartoon.” She batted her long lashes. “Of course, Jeannie prefers me.”
“Rosie’s got a few cobwebs in that tree she’s comparing herself to, as well,” Ruby teased, still eyeing the snowman fabric that Isabelle wished she’d hurry and put back on the rack.
The fabric wasn’t even of the abominable snowman, so it shouldn’t remind her of Zach. He looked nothing like a rounded snowman, not with his chiseled jaw, dimpled cheeks, broad shoulders, and those abs… ugh.No more Zach thoughts.
Isabelle addedNo more Zach thoughtsto her to-do list, then crossed it off. There. She was so over thinking about him.
“Sarah, tell old blue there how you chose me as Jeannie May’s godmother.”
“Sophie revamped Cole’s Santa suit. It looks and feels real with the new padding, and she’s gotten really good with doing his face and wig.” Isabelle rushed to distract the two women from their lifelong bickering habit.
For as long as she could remember, Rosie and Maybelle had been exchanging barbs, with the other two Butterflies often egging them on. Yet, without a doubt, they loved each other. Theirs was a friendship that had lasted, and would continue to last, a lifetime. Still, Isabelle wasn’t risking a Butterfly smackdown in the quilt shop. She could just imagine fabric and thread flying every which way. Not that she’d mind the snowman material being shredded.
“Sophie has an artistic gift. It’s part of what makes your quilt shop so successful, your business acumen and her creativity.” Giving Rosie one last glare, Maybelle put theMerry Christmastowel back on the shelf. “Cole gets a big kick out of being Santa for the kids.”
“Cole knows it’s better to give than to receive.” Ruby finally tucked the snowman fabric onto the rack and pulled out a reindeer print. “From the moment he moved to Pine Hill, he’s been a giver. That’s why he and Andrew get along so well. Two birds of a feather.”
A commotion sounded from the back of the shop. Peeking through the doorway, Aunt Claudia cleared her throat, then made a drumroll sound. “Ladies and Butterflies, I present to you the loveliest of brides wearing a one-of-a-kind gown.”
Smiling so big she looked as if she might burst with joy, Sophie stepped through the door and floated into the quilt shop. A vision in antique white satin and lace, she stopped in front of a Christmas tree decorated with big red bows and various sewing items for sale and turned to three-sixty showcase her mermaid-style dress. When she faced them again, her gaze met Isabelle’s, obviously wanting reassurance that she wasn’t imagining the dress’s exquisiteness.
Isabelle’s eyes watered. “Oh, Sophie, you look beautiful.”
“This dress makes me feel beautiful.” Sophie lifted the hem, revealing a thin underlayer of fluff. “See the adorable butterflies in the lace’s pattern? It’s perfection.”
The women glowed at the compliment and converged on the bride-to-be.
“It’s going to be.” Maybelle moved in for a closer look, turning Sophie. “It’s not finished yet.”
“Just wait until we get the remainder of the lace and pearls attached,” Aunt Claudia said. Maybelle had overseen the making of the gown, but Aunt Claudia had been the one to assure the design was the way Sophie described her fantasy dress.
“You’re going to be the talk of the town,” Ruby promised, her expression dreamy.
Rosie tugged at the zipper seam to make sure there was no give. “I still think you should have worn my wedding dress as your something borrowed.”
“Right.” Maybelle rolled her eyes heavenward. “As if anyone wants to wear the wedding dress an old clown wore a year ago in her circus-act ceremony.”
Aunt Claudia cackled as she studied Sophie. “She could have borrowed your hair for her something blue.”
Isabelle suppressed a giggle, as did Ruby, Sarah, and Sophie, based on how their hands covered their mouths.
“Don’t mind Rosie. She can’t stand not being the center of attention. That’s why she keeps offering her dress.” Maybelle measured various points on the back of the dress. “Mark down twenty inches. Rosie’s wedding is last year’s old news.Oldbeing the key word.”
