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“Everything okay, Austy?” Twyla asked when Austy just stood there staring at us.
“Oh, right. I got distracted. Your clothes are really nice,” she said, jamming the cap properly on her head.
Twyla beamed, joy radiating from her and seeping into me.
“Thank you. I made these myself.”
She reached across to touch Austy’s collar, rubbing her fingers back and forth to assess the material.
I don’t think she noticed the flush that crept up Austy’s neck and cheeks, but I did.
“This is a lovely shirt you’re wearing. If you bring it by the house, I could add little accents to the collar. If you like.”
“Yes.” Austy’s voice was just a croak. “Yes, I would like.”
Twyla let her hand drop, oblivious to the fire she’d started on Austy’s face. It was odd that I wasn’t mad at Austy’s flustered reaction. But I knew what it felt like to be on the receiving end of that smile, those expressive eyes.
“Speaking of clothes, we wanted to run something by you,” I said, and Austy’s gaze finally blinked away from Twyla. The girl really wore her every thought on her sleeve.
Twyla took up where I left off: “I want to start a custom clothing business, but I’m not too sure where to begin. I was wondering if you have any recommendations for vendors for good-quality materials and accessories. Cedra told me you’re something of a walking encyclopedia around these parts...”
Austy chuckled. “What she means is that I know literally everyone. And she’s right, I can list five different clothing merchants from neighboring Stars off the top of my head. But what are you looking for specifically? Who are your clients going to be?”
Twyla made a thoughtful humming sound at the back of her throat. “I was thinking of two separate catalogs—one for starpeople and another for Royal One. Since the designs and materials required are so different, it doesn’t make sense to lump them all together.”
“So would you need machines to do the sewing and stuff?”
Twyla frowned, her voice gently chiding. “These are going to be custom-made clothes, Austy. I’m going to sew them with my own hands. If I wanted to mass-produce clothes, I would’ve asked my father for a few of his bots.”
Austy lifted her cap and ran a hand through her close-cropped hair. “I didn’t mean to offend.”
Twyla smiled and shook her head. “It’s all right. I know it’s a novel idea to want to custom-make products these days, but I hope people will see the value in it and the quality of the clothes I can make. What do you think, baby?”
I’d already told her what a brilliant idea I thought it was but I understood that she just needed a little bit of verbal support. “I’ve seen your designs, ’mara. I think it will be a big hit.”
I saw nothing but her wide smile.
“So, Austy, if you could ask your vendors to contact us, we’d appreciate it,” I continued.
“Of course, I’d be delighted...” She trailed off as a kid ran up to us, her wild red curls bouncing around her. Her ruddy cheeks were lifted in a toothy smile.
“Hello,” she said, stopping in front of us.
“Hi, sweetie. Aren’t you cute.” Twyla reached down to pinch her fat cheek. The child giggled, looking behind her, as though she were waiting for instruction.
We followed her gaze to see Fend and his Mate, Beatrice, waving from their little stall.
I crouched down to boop her nose. “Are you Fend’s daughter, Maisie? My goodness, you’ve grown so much. I barely even recognized you.”
The little girl nodded and extended her chubby little hands. In them was a keepawarm box. “Auntie Ella couldn’t come. So she made this for you.”
She spoke carefully as though she was recalling each word from memory. “She says, I should say, ‘Welcome back home. I hope you’re okay. You should come visit soon.’”
Twyla took the box from her and popped open the lid. I already knew what was in it—there was no mistaking the smell of cinnamon and brown sugar and sweet apples.
“Hey!” Austy protested when she got a good look at the apple pie. “Maisie girl, where’s mine?!”
The little girl shrugged, all shoulders and plump cheeks.
