JOSIE QUICKENED HER PACE, wanting it to match her racing heart so that she could flee her mortification. She’d made a huge silly deal about a gingerbread display. Worse, she couldn’t have been more transparent or vulnerable in front of Theo.
Now Theo walked beside her. But she didn’t want his pity. Not on this night—the one night she looked forward to all year.
“After you.” Theo opened the hotel’s heavy brass door off to the side. A revolving glass door rotated slowly in the center of the entrance. “I get stuck in those spinning doors. Hate them. And I can’t believe I just admitted that out loud.”
She took in his easy grin and the laughter in his gaze. If he pitied her, he wasn’t revealing it. Her pulse settled into a slow jog. “Good thing there’s more than one way into a building.”
Just as there was more to Theo. Her fickle heart kicked up. She stepped into the lobby and looked at the massive crystal chandelier and away from Theo’s all-too-compelling gaze.
She knew all she needed to know about Theo. He wanted to help her.
But that really meant he wanted to change her, like so many before him. Except Mimi. The patient woman had pulled the best from Josie, highlighting Josie’s strengths while accepting the rest of her. Mimi had never apologized for who she was and had never expected Josie to apologize, either.
“I always forget how impressive this hotel is on the inside.” Awe widened Theo’s gaze, as if his senses raced to take in every decoration inside the gold-infused lobby from the floor to the fresco dome ceiling.
“It’s inspiring.” Josie ran her hand over the gold wall. “I have thread that is an exact match.”
“What are you making with it?” He walked beside her through the lobby filled with an array of Christmas trees in every size, past the silver-bell-and-garland-adorned registration area.
“An ivory wedding dress with gold appliqués.” Floor-length. Sweetheart neckline. Strapless. Full skirt. Chapel-length train. Whimsical, elegant, magical, bold—everything she’d experienced inside the hotel lobby that very first night she’d walked in. Mimi had gripped her hand tight, instructed her not to let go so they wouldn’t lose each other. Then Josie had lost herself in the enchanting experience.
Theo’s voice bumped into her musings. “Why isn’t that dress on display in your boutique?”
Josie yanked her hand away from a gold phoenix statue as if it had burned her. Or perhaps it was Theo’s veiled criticism. “It’s not finished.” Or rather, not started. The dress sketched in her design book waited for its season to be revealed. Josie waited for a sign—anything to convince her it was the right time.
“How long did it take you to find that gold thread?” he asked.
“Several seasons.” Each Christmas, she’d bring spools of gold thread to the hotel. Set each against the wall, discard it. Continue her search. “There are more nuances in gold than you can imagine.”
“If you dedicated that much time to locating the perfect thread, it only seems right to show it off in your gown.” Theo bumped his shoulder into hers. “Otherwise, you’ll give the gold thread a complex and make it feel unworthy.”
Her laughter relaxed her. Apparently, there were more nuances to Theo, as well. Perhaps he would understand the appeal of the gingerbread town. Maybe he’d even understand her. But all she wanted from Theo was his acceptance of her designs and his payment for her dressmaking services, didn’t she?
The back of Josie’s hand brushed Theo’s arm. Her pulse jump-started. If he took her hand, would he promise not to lose her?
But she wasn’t lost. She’d simply been around too many head-over-heels-in-love brides recently.
Josie kick-started her tour-guide voice and rambled off facts. “The tearoom is one of the few original spaces. Much of the hotel was damaged in the 1906 fires. The tearoom connects to an intimate glass ballroom with views from bridge to bridge. Both spaces are transformed for the gingerbread display.”
A woman outfitted in full Victorian yuletide garments from her lace-and-plaid-trimmed bonnet to her flocked velvet dress, faux-fur capelet and lace-up boots sashayed in the tearoom entrance, greeting guests. Josie took the holiday brochure from the woman, grateful to have something to hold onto. Something that wasn’t Theo’s hand.
Theo paused beside her, a broad grin on his face. “This is incredibly overwhelming. And quite spectacular.” He plucked the brochure from her grip and opened it to the map. “Where should we start? Holly Hills Historic District, Santa’s Neighborhood or Christmas Town Central?”
Josie took in his boyish delight. “You pick. It’s your first time.”
He lowered the map and eyed her. “But this is your place. You know its secrets…like the best viewing spots.”
“Santa’s Neighborhood is the most crowded. The working carousel is always a big draw.” She’d stood there the longest on her first visit, Mimi beside her. They’d invented story after story about how the elves and reindeer spent their days. For every toy built, they earned one turn on the carousel. For every gown Josie upscaled, she earned the reward of an overjoyed customer.
“I need to see the carousel.” Theo straightened and scanned the crowd. “My grandmother took me to the fair one summer. I rode on a flying lion for hours. It was all I wanted to do.” He closed his mouth and blinked at her as if he hadn’t recognized his own voice. Or his own admission.
“I always preferred the unicorn.” Mimi had taken Josie to a fair, too. Cotton candy, kettle corn and sunshine had filled that summer afternoon. “Let’s head to Holly Hills first.”
“What’s there?” Theo watched her as if nothing could surpass a flying lion.
“It’s the place where all the Christmas Town gingerbread people live.”
He arched one eyebrow, clearly unimpressed.
“Come on. You have to see it. You’ll want to live there, too.” She grabbed his hand, daring him to pull it away. The warmth of his touch unforgettable. “I promise.”
Josie wanted to stay there. Right there. And make a different kind of promise.
He stared at their joined hands. Slowly his fingers curved around hers. His grip tightened, locking her hand fully within the safety of his.
Please don’t lose me.
“Let’s go to Holly Hills.” Coarse wool scratched less than the rasp in his voice.
He never released her. Simply guided Josie closer to his side. Together they debated their favorite house: the Victorian mansion with sunroom versus the festive Tudor versus the stone cottage with cotton-candy chimney smoke, red pickup truck and frozen pond in the backyard. After agreeing not to judge each other’s ice-skating skills, they chose the stone cottage. In Christmas Town Central, they disputed the best location for their Victorian shop—near the town’s center or closer to the train station? They finally decided two storefronts would be more than appropriate.
All the while, Josie’s hand remained tucked inside Theo’s as if meant to be there. As if she belonged beside him. Like this.
“Hey, there’s Mia.” Theo leaned toward Josie, his focus aimed over the crowd weaving toward Santa’s carousel. “She wants us to head over there.”
Mia lowered her camera and smiled at them. “Josie, you made it and brought company. We could’ve double-dated.”
Date. This wasn’t… Josie released Theo’s hand.
“We were working.” Josie pinched her lips together, then tried again. “I was working. Theo drove me.”
Mia eyed her. Her keen gaze trailed over Josie’s face as if she had too many questions and needed to put them in order first. Josie tried to remain impassive.
Theo interrupted the friends’ standoff. “Where’s Wyatt?”
Mia pointed to a seating area away from the bar. Her new husband sat on the edge of a tall-backed leather chair and leaned over a round cocktail table. “Wyatt is taking notes for the family gingerbread contest that Helen and my mom have planned. He thinks he’s going to win this year.”
A family gingerbread contest was exactly the kind of holiday tradition Josie longed for. The kind Mimi had wanted for them. Josie wanted to reach for Theo as if he shared her same interests. Wanted the same things like holiday traditions and boisterous family meals.
Theo nudged Mia. “He looks quite serious. You should be worried.”
“He’s not going to win because I have a master plan this year to take first place.” Mia lifted her camera and laughed. The sound was more evil villain than good-natured.
“You’re going to copy one of the gingerbread houses on display.” Theo nodded as if appreciating her strategy.
“Something like that.” Mia straightened the camera strap around her neck.
“Isn’t that cheating, though?” Theo chuckled. “Shouldn’t you create your own gingerbread work of art?”
“It’s more like visual notetaking,” Mia countered.
“Copying is a form of flattery,” Josie added.
Mia nodded and pointed at Josie, then at Theo. That clever glint was back in her gaze, as if she’d just answered her own questions without Josie’s assistance. “You two should take notes. You’re both invited to the party. This year, I’m not accepting any excuses.”
They were both invited. Could attend together. Her pulse accelerated, swerving her heart back in the lead.
Theo stepped back as if Mia had poked him. “I was opening our new retail location in Chicago last year.”
Josie retreated, too, bumping into Theo’s shoulder. Delight bounced through Mia’s gaze. Josie argued, “I had to deliver costumes for Somerset Playhouse’s Christmas extravaganza that night.”
She’d skipped Mia’s holiday party. Josie preferred strangers. Strangers never lingered long enough to ask the difficult-to-answer personal questions. Strangers never expected more from Josie than she could give. The guests at Mia’s gathering weren’t quite strangers. Still not ready to return to the quiet in her apartment that evening, Josie had lingered at the theater and watched the performance from an empty seat on the side of the stage. For a few hours among so many strangers, she’d pretended the magic of the season had included her.
Her gaze settled on Theo’s profile. If he was beside her, perhaps…
Perhaps if you stepped out of the library, you would make friends. If you stopped drawing in your notebook, you could talk to the kids around you. Engage in the world. It has to be lonely inside your head all the time. That can’t be good for a kid your age.
She’d also been safe inside the library and inside her head growing up. Putting herself out there hurt. Loneliness was better than being heartbroken. Yet she never moved away from Theo’s side.
“This year I’ve already checked everyone’s calendar.” Mia aimed her camera at them and clicked. “Theo, you have no travel plans scheduled, according to Fran. And Josie, Somerset’s play is the prior weekend this year.”
“Looks like we better check on Wyatt and take some notes.” Theo set his hand on Josie’s back.
There was nothing pretend about Theo’s touch on her lower back. Or the flicker of awareness curving around her spine, tapping between her ribs. Or the way his touch steadied her.
“Just don’t copy off Wyatt,” Mia warned. “He’s brilliant in the ER, but his gingerbread house never stands straight and the roof always slides off.”
Theo and Wyatt interspersed greetings into their conversation about proper gingerbread construction. Josie shook her head. Mia was correct. Wyatt’s talents were not in finessing gingerbread. Neither were Theo’s, given he supported Wyatt’s suggestion for basic icing dyed red to hold the walls together. The true secret, according to Mimi, was melting gummy bears, caramel and marshmallows together for the wall cement.
Wyatt and Theo fist-bumped, impressed by their creativity. Josie covered her mouth to hide her laugh. She hadn’t built a gingerbread house, yet she’d designed quite a few on paper. For the first time since Mimi’s passing, Josie was tempted to build one. To test Mimi’s theories on proper gingerbread construction against whatever Theo and Wyatt would cook up.
She was ready to join in. Wanted to risk.
Josie swayed, off balance again. This time Theo’s grip wasn’t there to steady her. She dropped into the chair on the other side of the small table and was thankful Wyatt and Theo’s debate over pretzels or ice cream cones for trees consumed them. Certain her sudden stillness and rapid blinking would alert them to the shift in her world.
“I’m finished.” Mia set her camera on the table, sat beside Josie and nodded toward the grand piano in the alcove beside the bar. “Josie, isn’t that your more-bling-is-better client?”
Josie concentrated on her client like a gleaming beacon in dense fog. Marissa Delaney wore a sequined sapphire sweater and dark denim jeans embellished with rhinestones. More crystals adorned her upswept hair and ears. Josie waved to the woman. “Marissa likes to shimmer and sparkle, claims it makes her shine on the inside, too.”
“That’s quite a lot of sparkle.” Theo rubbed his chin.
“She should be glowing from the inside out.” Wyatt nodded and stood up. “I see one of the pastry chefs lingering near the gingerbread candy store in Central Town. I’m off to learn how to get my windows to glow the same way on my gingerbread house.”
“They’re gingerbread architects,” Mia said, correcting her husband. Then she wished him good luck.
Josie watched Theo track Marissa’s movement toward the bar. Her client always stood out. Always captured the notice of everyone around her. More importantly, Marissa held onto that attention. Josie never wanted to stand out. Only ever wanted to blend in. As for holding Theo’s attention, that temptation would lead to certain heartbreak. After all, she’d have to keep his interest. Then she’d falter and stumble over the truth—she’d never been worth keeping.
But what if? What if one time she was wrong?
What if one time she was worth…?
Mia picked up her camera and scrolled through her photographs. “Did Marissa like the subtle and tasteful shimmer you added to her ball gown?”
“She liked the second jeweled belt I attached.” Josie cringed. Marissa had slipped on the gown in Josie’s dressing room, posed at every possible angle in the floor-length mirror. Then uttered the most appalling three words ever: it’s not enough.
But Marissa had very specific ideas on how to improve her gown. On how to make sure the gown was enough. Josie had apologized to the dress every other stitch.
Mia lowered the camera. Horror strained her words into a tight whisper. “You added another belt? More bling?”
“It was what she requested,” Josie argued. If only Josie had the courage to request Marissa not mention Josie had done the alterations. That wasn’t exactly the style of work she wanted tied to her name. If only it wasn’t exactly the kind of custom alterations that helped pay her bills.
Dismay lifted Mia’s eyebrows upward.
Josie was supposed to stand behind her work. Except picturing those twin crystal-and-rhinestone belts made her shudder. Acknowledging her reluctance eroded her optimism. “Marissa was delighted.”
Mia frowned at her.
“Sometimes you have to stand up for your design style. Too much compromise dilutes what you’re worth.” Theo shifted his full focus to her. The criticism in his tone deflated the lightness in his voice.
Now Josie wanted to kick Theo under the table, not loiter under his blunt, albeit charming gaze. She pushed her words past her gritted teeth. “Marissa paid well over full price for the alterations.”
He arched one eyebrow before he nodded. Not that she needed his endorsement. But she required his approval. If she intended to take her business and Mia’s to the next level, his family had to want her custom gowns.
“But you had other ideas,” Theo pressed.
“It wasn’t my dress.” Josie shrugged. It was her business. Her brand. One that required money to sustain itself.
“You have other dresses.” Theo leaned toward her, not letting Josie avoid him. He tapped his finger on the gold inlay inside the marble tabletop.
The same gold that matched her thread.
“Wait.” Mia scooted closer to Josie. “You have original Josie Beck clothes that I haven’t seen. Ever.”
Josie nodded. She’d sewn a dress for attending The Phantom of the Opera. A sundress for a sunset walk on the beach. A skirt and blouse for a picnic in a vineyard. More for a ride in a horse-drawn carriage. A visit to the botanical gardens. A candlelit dinner. Formal events. Informal date nights. Places she dreamed about visiting. Special occasions she wanted to experience.
The invitations never came. Even during her marriage, her ex had preferred the company of his business associates and laptop. So she’d filled her closet with dreams, like Mimi had taught her to do.
“How did I not know this?” Mia glanced from Josie to Theo and back. “How many are there?”
Theo shrugged. “I haven’t seen them yet.”
Mia rubbed her hands together. The firmness in her tone suggested she was going to double down on locating Josie’s custom dresses. “I’m betting on dozens.”
Theo considered Josie, surprise in his voice. “You have a collection.”
“I have a hobby.” Josie rubbed her hands over her legs recalling her ex-husband’s words. If you wore these name-brand clothes rather than your own, you’d fit in with the partners’ wives. Did you know your clothes look handmade? Is that really the image we want to put out there? “I make clothes.”
She made clothes when she was sad. To fight the loneliness. To fill her sleepless nights. To pretend she had places to go. Mimi had given a ten-year-old Josie the chance to imagine a different life for herself and create that world in clothes. She’d continued the tradition even now.
“Why wouldn’t you display your work at your store?” The confusion in Theo’s voice pulled Josie’s gaze to him.
Josie stared at him. He wasn’t pretending. Wasn’t passing judgment. His eyebrows pulled together. He watched her as though she’d just admitted she lived a double life, and was an astronaut. Josie gave him the same response as before. “They aren’t ready.” I’m not ready.
“What you have is a stubborn streak.” Affection and kindness swirled through Mia’s voice. She recognized her own stubbornness and appreciated Josie’s, or so she liked to inform Josie.
Perhaps. But that stubbornness protected her.
“Tell her, Theo.” Mia waved at Theo as if he was the voice of reason. “Tell Josie she’s being selfish keeping her designs tucked away and not sharing them with the world.”
Theo drummed his fingers on the arm of the leather chair, his face thoughtful. There was a reflective tone in his words. “At the very least, you should have guided Marissa in the direction you believed was best.”
“He agrees with me.” Mia jumped up, triumph in her voice. “My work here is done. Now I’m off to rescue these gingerbread experts from my husband.”
But would Marissa have been upset and refused to pay her? If Josie changed Theo’s grandmother’s gown, would Theo approve? Would he have faith she could transform that wedding dress into something exceptional and fitting for his sister? Josie swallowed, too afraid to ask. The same way she feared revealing her so-called collection to the world. Some things were better left undiscovered. Better left unjudged.
She looked at Theo. “What do you think about the gingerbread Christmas Town?”
“It’s quite an experience.” He leaned back in his chair, as if allowing the obvious change in subject to pass by him.
“For me, it’s about the memory.” Josie smiled. Mia and Wyatt both hugged an amused pastry chef, then slipped outside onto the patio together.
Theo rose and moved to the chair closest to Josie. “How many memories of this place do you have?”
“One.” Josie squeezed her eyes closed. Only a moment. What was it about Theo that made her open up? She hated being exposed. Hated revealing herself. She willed herself to stop talking.
“Must be an extraordinary memory to keep you coming back year after year.” His quiet voice surrounded her.
She stared at her empty hands. She’d been coming back every Christmas for more than a decade. How strange that she didn’t have more than one memory to hold onto. “It was supposed to be our tradition.”
“You and your ex’s tradition?” he asked.
She wasn’t certain if it was the idea or his question that startled her. She looked at Theo and shook her head. “My ex-husband never came here.” To be fair, she’d never invited him.
“He wasn’t into traditions.” Theo angled toward her, holding her gaze.
“Not holiday traditions.” She grimaced. “Those interfere with business.”
“In defense of business traditions, our back-office employees have the week between Christmas and New Year’s off every year.” His grin, small and quick, signaled his triumph. He knew he’d surprised her and redirected her traipsing too deep into her past. He added, “It’s a very popular tradition among the staff.”
“What do you do on that week off?” Josie leaned toward him, bracing her elbow on the armrest.
He shrugged. “Work.”
Now he’d strayed back into her ex-husband’s category. Suddenly, she didn’t like Theo being there. She’d sensed there was more than profit margins and eighty-hour work weeks to him. Wanted to believe she hadn’t been wrong. Then perhaps she could prove to him she was more, too.
“Would you stop scowling at me if I told you it’s one my most productive weeks every year?” He watched her. His expression was full of hope. He smiled.
Josie laughed. “As long as you tell me you take a real vacation each year.”
“Define ‘real vacation,’” he said.
“Not a staycation. Not a work-on-the-beach trip. Or work-in-the-ski-lodge weekend.”
His smile faded beneath his pensive tone. “It’s been too long since I’ve taken a real vacation.”
“You could start a new tradition,” she suggested.
“Like coming here is yours.”
“I come back to remember.” Josie heard the laughter from her very first visit like bursts of starlight all around her. Saw the joy in the families gathered around the massive display. Pictured the gingerbread town—half the size than it was now, yet no less enchanting that afternoon. Noted the same wonder she’d seen on the faces of the girls and boys straining to see inside each window and past each door. “I come back to remind myself to dream.”
“I was taught dreams were a waste of time.” Theo stretched out his legs, unconcerned by his confession.
Josie gaped at him. “Who told you that?” And why? She’d have given up long ago without her dreams.
“My teachers.” He folded his hands together on his lap. His tone offhand. His voice indifferent. “The school counselors, even our headmaster. The Copper Cove Academy activates its students’ academic and emotional potential to ensure success throughout every stage of life. Through proper character formation, a student’s full academic capacity will be reached.”
And Josie considered her childhood rough. Character formation sounded like some medieval-style punishment. “Sounds strict.”
“The Copper Cove Academy raises men to thrive in the world, not boys who collapse under pressure.” Theo lifted his hands and made finger quotes. “That was a favorite of several high-school professors and the varsity coaches.”
“I thought parents raised their children,” she said.
“I was enrolled in Copper Cove Academy from first grade until I graduated high school. In third grade, after my grandmother passed, I was sent to board there full-time.” His voice was remote, as if he’d deleted himself from the memories. As if he’d detached his feelings from the situation. “Then I went to college.”
“What about your parents?” She searched his face, then curled her fingers into her palms rather than touch his cheek and chase away the cool indifference.
His fingers flexed on the armrests, as if he was bracing himself. “They were busy building my inheritance.”
“But who gave you a snack after school? Who hugged you when you had a fight?” She’d seen the photographs of the Taylor family all together. Before and after his father’s death. The similar smiles. The linked arms. The easy affection. It appeared in every snapshot. Over and over again. An ideal American family. There was nothing ideal in his rigid posture. Or the isolation he’d wrapped himself in.
Her voice snagged on the emptiness in his hooded gaze. “Who…?”
She stopped asking because she knew the answer. No one.
She ached for him. Everywhere. His pain leaked inside her chest, joining with her own.
“You never read that in any article about me.” He rubbed the back of his neck, as if removing the past, and glanced around the tearoom.
He’d spent more time in a boarding school than with his own family. The same as she’d spent more time in the school libraries than at her foster homes. Should she share how much and how well she understood him? Would he reach for her this time or turn away? Unsure what she wanted, she asked, “Why did you tell me?”
He lowered his arm and faced her. His gaze locked on hers, open and candid. He was no longer detached. He was present in this moment. With her.
“I told you because I’ve never built a gingerbread house, either.”
Josie exhaled and tested the stability of the common ground between them. “When I was ten, my foster mom brought me here to see the gingerbread-town display for the first time.”
His smile was swift and fleeting.
She worried she’d gone too far. Too late. “We couldn’t afford the tea service here at the hotel. Mimi brought her own blend, tucked inside her sewing basket. She carried a basket like most women carry a purse.” A small, bittersweet laugh flowed through her at the forgotten detail.
Josie picked up her own tote bag—but unlike Mimi’s straw one, hers was leather. Yet like Mimi, she stuffed the bag with her own sewing supplies and Mimi’s favorite thimble. Grief needled through her. Even the metal thimble lacked the strength to push back the loss inside her. Her voice wobbled. “It’s silly, I know. But I still carry the exact tea flavor in my purse.”
“So each year, you sit here, drink your tea and toast your foster mom.” He nodded as if he appreciated the sentiment.
Josie shook her head and caught the stray tear that tumbled free. “I’ve only passed through the display. Never sat and really remembered.” Until tonight. With you.
Theo ran his hands over the leather armrests and pushed himself out of the chair. He studied her, his face impassive. He opened his mouth, closed it, then turned and walked away.
Josie sat back in her chair and closed her eyes. I’m fine. This is fine. Everything is fine. Except…
Something rattled beside her head. Josie popped open her eyes. Theo stepped around the chairs, carrying a teacup on a saucer and a pot of hot water. Uncertainty seeped through his voice. “There’s no pressure. But if you want to sip your tea and take yourself back, it’s here.”
And he was there. Beside her. For the moment in the Silver Monarch Hotel, Josie felt safe again. Like that evening with Mimi so long ago. Collect the happy moments, Josie, and your life will be full. Mimi had taken Josie’s hand and walked out of the hotel, content that she’d collected another happy moment. Josie blinked until the tears cleared slightly. She picked up the teapot and filled the cup. “Thank you.”
Theo nodded, pulled his chair closer to Josie and sat down.
“Mimi and I sat on the velvet benches near the windows until past my bedtime and designed every inch of our own gingerbread house.” Josie opened the tea bag and set it into the hot water. Inhaled the spicy scent and the sweeter pieces of the past. The ones that coated the sorrow. “Pretzel Christmas trees and melted hard candies for windows and candy-cane pillars on the front porch.”
“What did you plan for the roof and chimney?” he asked. “Santa needs a chimney to deliver the gifts.”
“Stacked caramels for the chimney and frosted-wheat cereal for the roof,” she replied. His frown drew laughter out of her. Wyatt and he had planned differently. Still, she appreciated him guiding her away from the pain and into the good parts of this particular memory.
“I suppose that’s both creative and sturdy,” he finally acknowledged.
“There wasn’t a detail we’d missed that night.” But so many she’d misplaced. Until now.
“Sounds like a magical time.”
“The best I can remember.” She sipped the cinnamon-orange tea, warmed by the hot liquid, her memories and Theo’s presence.
“Why not build that gingerbread house now?” he asked.
“It wouldn’t be the same.” She curved her hands around the teacup and skimmed her gaze over the families and couples strolling through the display. “The joy and magic are in creating and building something together. As a family. Mimi always said that was the secret to the perfect gingerbread house.”
“Mimi is your fortune-cookie muse.” Affection gentled his voice, mellowing his tone. “What else did Mimi tell you? She sounds like my Grandmother Pearl—always brimming with life advice or a quick, witty quip, as she called them.”
“She often told me ‘Josie, bleeding is going to happen and sometimes it’s going to be all your fault.’” Josie laughed at the look of horror on Theo’s face as his jaw dropped open. “She taught me to sew. ‘The needles are quite sharp, and our fingers sometimes get in the way.’”
Theo’s face cleared. “She sounds like a talented woman.”
“She was that and so much more.” Josie added water to her cup, extending the moment, clutching the fond memories that she so seldom revisited.
“Where is she now?” he asked.
“She passed away the following spring.” Grief burned where the tea had soothed. Josie exchanged Mimi’s cottage for one foster family after another. All the while Josie had continued to sew and learn her craft. Every stitch, every finished garment had helped her feel closer to Mimi. Helped her remember Mimi’s love.
“I’m sorry.” The low timbre in his voice was as warm and soothing as a hug.
Sometimes it was the simplest things—the smallest words—that righted someone’s world. Josie curled into the chair with her teacup and relaxed.
Theo spread hotel cocktail napkins across the table and asked a passing waitress for a pen. He grinned at Josie. “Now we plan.”
“What?”
“Our gingerbread houses, of course.” He accepted the pen from the waitress and wrote Josie’s name on top of a napkin and his name on another.
An hour later, Josie walked out of the hotel next to Theo. Their gingerbread napkins folded and stuffed in her coat pocket. The happy moment collected.