Bonnie took a deep breath, barely able to conceal her smile. ‘I’ve secured The Perfect Fit Couture a stand at three major Bridal Expos next year, including the prestigious New York International Bride Week!’
Evie’s mouth fell open. ‘No way!’
‘Way!’ Bonnie’s eyes lit up. ‘This is a major deal and it’ll be all hands on deck. This will boost our reputation and,’ she crossed her fingers on one hand, ‘if sales increase, it could see us expand to new premises.’
‘Bonnie, that’s fabulous, it really is.’ It hadn’t taken long in the job for Evie to realise that this was her calling. Her motivation came from the creative licence, the thrill of having a hand in designing and producing exquisite gowns, delighting customers from far and wide. One day she dreamed of opening her own place, perhaps having her own label, and hearing about the expo was a step in the right direction. Surely nothing could step in and spoil this now.
Evie’s phone chimed, but she didn’t recognise the number. ‘Hello?’ Holding the phone between her shoulder and her ear, she moved over to the main table, looking at the design for the Morrison’s dress that was laid out, ready for her to begin fixing on the button loops. But that was as far as she got before the voice sent her in to a panic.
*
‘I told them not to bother you at work.’ Nicole shook her head when Evie arrived at the hospital and told her the nurse had telephoned. ‘I only got upset because my wrist really hurts and I won’t be able to help out at the shelter tonight.’
‘Oh, you silly thing.’ Evie did her best to hug her friend, despite the injured limb encased in a sling against her chest. ‘You should’ve called me yourself.’
‘I would’ve let you know.’
Evie pulled a face.
‘I would’ve … eventually.’
‘So what happened?’
‘I slipped when I was out for a walk this morning. I was only trying to be healthy, but typically, I found the one patch on the ground that hadn’t thawed, and before I knew it I’d slipped on the ice and I’d fallen.’ She grinned. ‘A handsome man helped me up and made sure I was okay.’
Evie smiled, glad she was in good spirits. ‘Is your wrist broken?’
‘I don’t know. I’ll have to find out what the X-rays say. The coat drive might be a challenge for a one-armed woman though.’
‘Don’t you worry about that, I’ll go round collecting, enlist someone else’s help if I need to. Sometimes, Nicole, you really do need to learn to put yourself first.’ She said it knowing it’d never do any good. Nicole was a helper and helping others came as naturally to her as taking corners at speed came to a racing driver.
‘Another buyer was sniffing around the shelter yesterday,’ Nicole added glumly. Evie knew that wasn’t good news. ‘And locals have been campaigning to get rid of us, even started a petition.’
Evie slumped back in her chair. ‘I thought the community were supportive.’
‘They are, they give us their coats,’ Nicole harrumphed. ‘But that doesn’t mean they want us anywhere near them. It’s the same old story. They’re sympathetic to the plight of the homeless, as long as it isn’t happening on their doorstep. I suppose I can’t blame them.’
Evie lowered her voice. ‘We should point out that the people coming to the shelter could very easily have been one of them, if they’d lost their way.’
‘Oh, they won’t listen, they don’t want to. They’ll throw money at it, but like I said, they don’t want to see it every day. I think our days are numbered.’
‘But it’s not like we have neon signs out front,’ Evie argued. That’d been one thing they’d never done. The shelter where Nicole and now Evie volunteered wasn’t like the bigger ones in New York City. They were a small operation started by a New York family, the O’Briens, who’d since moved away but handed over the reins in every aspect except the finance to volunteers. The building was near a prestigious shopping precinct, nestled between a clothing store and an old-fashioned candy store, the sort that sold Salt Water Taffy by the caseload and where jars lined the walls with multi-coloured candy and a gum-ball machine stood out front. The stone façade of their building was old and the glass needed replacing, but it had been relatively inconspicuous until word of mouth meant they’d been filled to bursting point most days.
‘The building will be sold in less than twelve months.’ Nicole sighed. ‘Both of the O’Briens passed away recently, and when I spoke to the daughter she told me she’s not interested in keeping property here in New York. I explained everything to her, but she’s returning to Ireland with her children.’
‘I do wish she’d reconsider.’
‘Oh, Evie, we don’t know her story. I couldn’t press her on it after she told me her plans.’
‘Is there any way we could raise the money?’ She knew she was clutching at straws from the look on Nicole’s face.
‘I’d buy it myself if I could, but it’s prime retail space and far too expensive. I was hoping to get government funding before I had to tell anyone about this, but with the locals petitioning, I doubt it’s even worth the effort.’
In the waiting room, new patients were called, loved ones murmured between themselves as they waited for news on relatives, a baby grizzled on his mother’s lap.
Evie covered Nicole’s good hand with her own. ‘Try not to worry, we’ll sort something out.’
They both knew it wasn’t true. They couldn’t work miracles.
