Falling into Forever. Phyllis Bourne
Читать онлайн книгу.
the dreamy brown eyes of Isaiah Jacobs, one of the most popular boys at Wintersage Academy.
One smile from him had turned her insides to mush, and all Sandra could do was gawk openmouthed. When she’d finally spoken, her tongue had twisted and her words had spilled out in a jumble.
Sandra sighed. Isaiah had gone on to become her first boyfriend, her first love and her first heartbreak.
“Stu!” Her mother’s sharp tone roused Sandra from the errant flashback.
“What?” Her father raised his hands in the air, his expression perplexed. “The girl tested off the charts in math and science, but instead of being an asset to her family’s business, like Ivy, she squanders her natural ability as a dressmaker.” He made the word dressmaker sound like loser. “How am I the bad guy here?”
Frowning at her husband, Nancy snatched the sketch from his hand and placed it on an end table. “You start this up every time we visit the Kings,” she said. “Let. It. Go.”
Sandra shot her mom a grateful look. The fact that Swoon Couture specialized in custom dresses and catered to the wealthiest women in Wintersage was lost on her father. As far as Stuart Woolcott was concerned, if Sandra didn’t work for Woolcott Industries, she didn’t really work.
Noticing the garment bag draped over her mother’s arm, Sandra jumped at the chance to change the subject. “I see you had time to do some shopping.”
Nancy averted her eyes. “Uh...well, I found a few things, including the most adorable Halloween costume for little Mason. He’s going to be a Patriots’ player.”
While her mother prattled on about toddler football helmets, Sandra zeroed in on the garment bag. In particular, the embossed logo of a hot New York designer who’d been getting incredible buzz in the fashion world. It was obvious the contents weren’t for Sandra’s nephew.
“I know this is a busy time of year for you with the holiday season almost upon us. I thought I’d take some of the pressure off by trying a new designer I read about in Vogue magazine,” her mother said, in way of explanation. “In fact, he’s been in all the magazines.”
“B-but I already have a capsule collection of holiday dresses, designed especially for you.” As always, Sandra had prioritized her mother’s dresses, having nailed down the perfect cuts, colors and styles for her over the summer. “They’re waiting for you at the boutique.”
“I’m sure they’re beautiful as always, dear, but everybody who’s anybody in Wintersage will be wearing your gowns this holiday season. No one will have Zack originals.”
“So you brought the dresses to show me?” Sandra asked, trying hard to keep the slighted edge out of her voice.
To be honest, she was also curious to see what the competition offered that was so dazzling her mother had purchased off-the-rack dresses without even bothering to see the custom ones Sandra had prepared.
“Not exactly.” Nancy glanced uncomfortably at the garment bag. “Actually, I was hoping to drop them off with you.”
“I don’t understand. Why would you need to bring them to me?” Sandra asked, confused.
“W-well, you see, your father was in such a hurry to get back home, I didn’t have time for a fitting and alterations,” her mother stammered. “I thought, well, since you know my measurements. I only need two inches off the bottom of all of them and a little nip at the waist of the green one...”
Nancy held the garment bag out to her, and Sandra’s jaw dropped as realization dawned. Her mom expected her to handle the alterations.
Stuart took the bag and shoved it into her arms. “Why waste time waiting around when we already have a seamstress in the family?”
Still stunned, Sandra could only blink. She wasn’t sure what stung more, her mother’s disloyalty or her dad’s total disregard.
“I...I’m not a seamstress, Dad,” she stammered, staring down at the offending bag. “I’m a designer.”
“Bottom line is you can sew, right?”
Sewing was something she rarely had time to do as Swoon continued to grow, and she contracted three expert seamstresses to handle the task.
“Of course I can, but—”
“Good.” Her father nodded once, in his view making it a done deal. He glanced down at his wife. “Do you want me to drop you off at home or are you staying to visit?”
Nancy looked from her husband to her daughter. “I’d love to stay and chat a bit, but I need to order Thanksgiving dinner.”
“Why? Isn’t Milly cooking?” Sandra asked.
Her mother shook her head. “Milly’s taking Thanksgiving week off to visit with her grandchildren. I’d cook myself, but I’m committed to spending Thanksgiving morning delivering boxes of groceries for my sorority’s needy families program, and the early afternoon helping serve dinners at the church. I simply don’t have time to prepare a turkey dinner with all the trimmings.” She sighed. “I’ll need to order a pie from Carrie at the bakery, too.”
“But it isn’t even Halloween yet,” Sandra said, disappointed that her parents’ longtime cook and housekeeper wouldn’t be preparing a turkey basted in the sage butter she loved.
“In terms of Thanksgiving in Wintersage, it’s already too late. The two best chefs in town aren’t taking any more orders, so finding someone to prepare a good meal won’t be easy.”
A snort came from her father’s direction. “Too bad I didn’t manage to finagle an invitation from Fred King for Thanksgiving dinner.” He turned to Sandra. “Did I mention Ivy prepared a five-course meal while we were there? It was superb.”
Sandra pressed her lips together. She loved her Dad, but today he was bouncing on her last nerve like a kid on a trampoline.
Ever since she’d returned home from college and refused to come to work at Woolcott Industries, he’d constantly compared her to the Kings’ daughter. The digs had become even more frequent since Ivy had married an executive from her father’s company.
Ivy was perfection in the daughter department, while Sandra had descended from Daddy’s girl to a big disappointment in her father’s eyes. Nothing she did pleased him. All they seemed to do was butt heads.
“Ivy’s dinner tasted like it came out of a Michelin starred restaurant. I thought I’d died and gone to heaven with every mouthful,” Stuart continued. “And that pie!”
Sandra bit the inside of her lip, hoping her mother would shut him down again.
Instead, Nancy licked her lips. “Which one? The salted caramel chocolate pecan pie or maple bourbon sweet potato pie? Goodness, they both practically melted in your mouth, didn’t they?”
“The entire meal did. And to think Ivy made everything from scratch, after putting in a full day helping run their family business.” Stuart leveled his gaze at Sandra.
“I run a business, too, Dad,” Sandra countered, although she knew it wouldn’t matter. “I love what I do, and I’m very good at it.”
He shook his head. “This isn’t about loving what you do, it’s about living up to your potential. When you were in school, I’d brag on you to Fred King every time you brought home your grades. He’d be so envious. Now he’s the one boasting about how his daughter’s efforts have resulted in record profits for their business. Not to mention she’s also a wife and mother.” He exhaled. “Guess who’s the jealous father now.”
Sandra swallowed the lump rising in her throat. She could show him statements proving Swoon Couture had also raked in sizable profits. She could also reveal, depending on the outcome of next week’s election, that she was in the running to design the inaugural ball gown for the wife of Massachusetts’s