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“Oh, I just knew you were Maggie,” she responded, somehow brightening further.

“You … Sorry?” The woman’s incandescence was distracting.

“I’m Laura! David’s wife.” Laura smiled even wider and stuck her hand out. Maggie took it weakly.

“David’s wife,” she repeated.

“Yes!” Laura’s face twitched slightly, and the glee drained from it. “David Barrow? I’m Theodore’s sister-in-law.”

Maggie’s eyes widened. “Of course! I’m so sorry, I’ve only met Theo and Louise.”

“What exactly is going on?” Bridgers asked. He and Tom were side-by-side, arms identically crossed. Tom’s brow was wrinkled; Bridgers just looked cheerfully lost.

“Boys, this is Theo’s sister-in-law.” Maggie realized that she had just repeated what Laura had already said. Her mind felt fuzzy. “Er, David is his older brother. These are my brothers, Tom and Bridgers.”

“The butcher!” Bridgers beamed, and he clapped his hands together. “We know the butcher!”

Maggie winced inwardly; she really needed to speak with him about being so theatrical in such a small space. He was sucking the air out of the room.

“Oh, we just love him,” he continued. “Gave us free stew beef once!”

“Did he?” Laura’s smile was truly a sunbeam. “That sounds just like him. Now, onto business.” She turned to Maggie, who blinked. “I need some dresses made.”

Maggie, who had spent countless, sleepless preparing herself to handle this exact situation, felt a flood of panic about handling this situation.

“Oh?” Her voice was high and reed thin. “What sort?”

“Well, perhaps you don’t know but my husband handles the slaughtering of the animals. He and Jake, but mostly him. Jake has been off doing his little fights recently, and David needs more help in the slaughterhouse.”

“Little fights?” Tom asked.

“Oh, he’s training to be a boxer or some such nonsense.” Her nose wrinkled. “Comes to dinner at ours all covered in the most dreadful bruises. I’m quite sure his nose was broken at one point, but he’s stubborn as a mule and wouldn’t allow me to look at it.”

“Are you a bonesetter?” Bridgers asked, surprised.

“Oh, just as a hobby.”

Maggie was quite possibly falling in love with this woman.

“How does one get into the hobby of bone setting?” Tom followed up.

Laura waved her hand around dismissively. “One grows up with six brothers and a father who would get drunk and fall often.”

“Oh.” Tom’s gaze was approving; he was a great admirer of blunt talk, and a woman he had just met five minutes prior casually mentioning a drunkard father was an excellent example of it.

“But I’ve gone off topic,” Laura said, dramatically throwing her hands up. “As I was saying, I’ll be helping my husband with the actual slaughtering—oh I know, Mr. Cruthers”— Bridgers had blanched quite badly—“but you really must be brave for this story—and I need something sensible to wear. Something that I can move around in.” She paused and swayed her hips a bit to demonstrate. “And something washable, since I’ll be covered in all manner of gore and feathery bits. And durable! They’ll have their work cut out for them, those garments.” She blew out a breath, waggling her eyebrows. “Do you think you could do something like that?”

Maggie swallowed. “Yes.”

“That’s wonderful! I’m in no rush. I know these things take time. I’m not partial to any color, although I suppose something that goes well with blood wouldn’t go amiss.”

“I … Would you like an estimate?” Maggie had mapped out a basic plan for what to charge, but every number on it had flown out of her head, happily migrating somewhere out of her reach.

“Not necessary,” Laura replied. “I assure you this will be cheaper than the time and bother of going to the city for them. I know this is your first day open, so shall I come back later in the week for measurements?”

“Uh, yes. Friday?”

“Friday! Perfect. At …” She raised her eyebrows, patient.