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Without thinking, my hands jump up. “May I?”
She hands her phone over to me with no hesitation at all. Using my thumb and index finger on the screen, I zoom in on the photo, studying each small detail.
“It’s the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen,” she proclaims.
I admit it rates right up there, but the best sight of my life still remains the moment Dr. Morgan let go and came down my throat.
I shake that off becausewhy the hell am I thinking about him again?
“Can you duplicate it?” Pen asks softly. “I want one just like that.”
Stunned by her request, I shove the phone back at her. “What?”
“I want a wedding dress just like this.” She taps the screen as it begins to darken. “This was my grandma, Els. Her mom made that dress for her. Ever since I saw this picture for the first time, I knew I’d want a dress identical to it for my wedding.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Eloise
Wedding?
I repeat that word out loud because I have to, “wedding?”
“Yes,” Penny states calmly.
I assume the groom in her happily-ever-after equation is Daxton Robinson, but I feel the need to confirm that. “You’re getting married?”
“One day,” she whispers. “I want to have the dress ready to go when that happens.”
I take a breath. “Maybe you should wait to commission it until you’re engaged.”
“I know what you’re thinking.” She shakes her head. “I’ve always chased after my dreams. I knew when I was twelve that one day I’d leave Rhode Island and move to Manhattan. I had no doubt that I’d start a pet portrait business, and that may not be the success I imagined it would be, but it’s still blossoming.”
I nod. “Chasing after dreams is important.”
“My heart tells me Dax is my guy.” She drops her shoulders. “I was allowed in to see him today since they moved him to a regular room. We held hands. There’s something there.”
I glance at her phone again but the screen is dark.
She taps it, bringing the photo of her grandma back into view. “Maybe fate will grant my wish and I’ll marry him one day. Maybe there’s another guy waiting around a corner for me. For the record, I don’t see that happening, but I want the dress.”
Every rational part of me wants to tell her to hold off on commissioning a piece like that. It will take hours of work. Both the knitted and crocheted elements are intricate.
“Let’s make it simple,” she suggests. “Can you duplicate this dress for me, Eloise Rehn?”
I nod. “I know I can.”
“My budget is eight thousand,” she says sheepishly. “I know it’s going to be hundreds, if not thousands of hours of work, and there’s the cost of the yarn to factor in, and…”
“I’ll do it,” I interrupt. “I want to do this for you.”
Since she’s hell bent on getting the dress made, I should be the one to do it. My work is impeccable. My attention to detail is second to none.
I know I can purchase the materials for it at a reasonable cost. I have a friend who can order the exact pure silk yarn I’ll use.
“I’ll pay you upfront,” she offers. “That way you know I won’t bail and leave you on the hook with a dress that’s made just for me.”
Something tells me, that she’d never bail on me, but the promise of that much money in my bank account is too good to pass up. “Okay, Pen.”
