In Love By Christmas. Cari Lynn Webb
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used her hip to nudge a baby stroller around the photograph display at the front of Josie’s boutique. The woman tossed toasted cereal to her eight-month-old baby with one hand and pressed her cell phone to her ear with the other. All without skipping a word in her animated conversation.
Josie wanted to skip all her appointments with the Curtain Call Children’s Theater group if the Cunninghams foreshadowed her afternoon. The pint-size chaos ruined Josie’s focus and kinked her patience.
But she’d drained her account to make December rent that morning. January’s payment loomed like a personal rain cloud.
Every alteration mattered. Every costume design mattered. Every client mattered. But every family mattered, too.
Josie positioned Connor on the platform in front of the floor-to-ceiling mirrors and lifted his arms. Resolved to do her best for the troupe, she said, “Stand like an airplane.”
“Airplanes don’t stand.” Charlotte stretched her arms out in her Mrs. Claus costume and her mischievous grin even wider. “Airplanes fly.”
The twins lifted their arms as if on cue and zoomed off the platform, weaving around Josie. Josie clenched her measuring tape and squeezed her shout back inside of her.
Charlotte spun the stool in the opposite direction and tilted her head back to ogle the ceiling. “The twins love airplanes and ice cream.”
Josie loved clients that stood still. Appointments that stayed on schedule. And harbored a soft spot for a certain seven-year-old girl, who refused to take off her Mrs. Claus costume.
Connor clipped Josie’s dress form, his chubby fingers catching on a strapless burgundy winter ball gown. The one waiting for Josie to hem and add sparkle to with a jeweled waistband. The one her client intended to pick up later that week, as promised. Josie settled the dress form and steered Connor up onto the platform. She tacked sincerity and confidence into her voice, then improvised. “I bet if you stand really still and let me take these measurements for your costumes, your mom will get you ice cream.”
Chloe crash-landed into the back of Josie’s legs.
Charlotte chanted, “Mayday. Mayday.”
That was the same chant of Josie’s checking account. Utility bills were due in ten days. Josie had to complete the costumes for the children’s theater production of Rudolph, Somerset Playhouse’s Scrooge performance and an expanding pile of alterations. If only that was enough to turn a profit. Worry sheared through her, weakening her knees and sapping her hope. Rent in San Francisco was high, but it meant she had easy access to more clients.
Josie shook the bells on the curved end of a sample elf hat, locked her knees and shifted her attitude. Gloom never quite fit her—it was like a poorly tailored dress, cinching in some places, sagging in others. “Let’s skip the measurements and try on fun hats instead.”
“Chloe won’t put that on.” Certainty pushed out Charlotte’s chin.
Josie jingled the bells again, seeking her holiday cheer and best smile for the spirited little girl. Josie’s favorite foster mom, Mimi Sims, had never forced her smiles and had always hugged without restraint. “Can I just set this on your head? One quick second.”
Chloe grabbed the elf hat and smashed it under her faux-fur boots. “No hat.”
Josie rubbed her temples and slid her gaze to Charlotte. “Will Connor try it on?”
“He does what Chloe does.” Charlotte crossed her legs and tapped one glitter-painted fingernail on her chin. “But they might put it on for bubble gum.”
“Bubble gum.” Josie quickly ran through the contents of her purse. “I don’t have bubble gum.”
Charlotte shrugged. “They aren’t allowed to have it, anyway. Last summer, Chloe stuck her bubble gum in Connor’s hair. Then Connor chewed a bunch of pieces and smashed it all in Chloe’s hair.”
Josie sank onto the platform. She’d almost started another bubble-gum war. Clearly, she needed to be better prepared—and equipped—for children clients in her boutique. Yet this was the happy chaos of a big family. A chaos she’d always wanted. An ache curled through that soft spot.
“Mom had to smear peanut butter in the twins’ hair.” Charlotte warmed to her story. Delight flashed through her voice. “Mom even used the whole jar. But the gum never came out.”
Josie might never finish this appointment. Then she might never become a custom dressmaker. All her hard work as a daytime housecleaner and evening waitress for almost two years, all the overtime shifts and every missed meal to save enough money to open the boutique, would be wasted. And her ex-husband’s family would be right: she didn’t have what it took to be more than a seamstress in a strip mall.
Josie swiped her hand over her eyes, attempting to wipe away the obstacles of the past and focus on the obstacles in front of her. If she failed now, she’d prove more than her ex and his family right. But Josie wasn’t that foster kid anymore, either. She concentrated on Charlotte, raising her voice over the stinging taunts of her childhood. “What did your mother do?”
“Both the twins had to have their hair shaved off.” Charlotte leaned forward and patted her own head. Regret tugged down the edges of her bottom lip. “Chloe had to wear a hat forever, even though it scratched her naked head.”
No wonder the poor child hated hats. “Is there any way to make them stand still?”
“Chocolate.” Charlotte never hesitated. Never blinked. Her tone contained only authority.
The kids were already walking sugar rushes. “Can they have chocolate?”
“No.” Charlotte pointed at her chest, her blond eyebrows rising along with her grin. “But I can.”
Josie eyed the girl, appreciating the child’s crafty negotiations. Josie could use the seven-year-old’s skills. “If I give you chocolate, will you help me with your brother and sister?”
“That depends.” Charlotte adjusted the white apron of her Mrs. Claus costume. “What kind of chocolate do you have?”
One year, Josie had refused to take off the princess costume Mimi had sewn for her on Halloween. Every day after school, Mimi had a full tea party, complete with minicakes and cider, and her princess gown ready for Josie. Mrs. Cunningham offered a distracted wave aimed more at the empty dressing room than her oldest daughter and nudged the stroller in the opposite direction. Once again, she never missed a word in her phone call. No full tea party waited for Charlotte at home.
“I have a king-size chocolate-and-almond bar.” Josie had stuffed the candy bar in her purse that morning for lunch. The twin cause was worth the sacrifice. “And a new bag of chocolate drops.”
Charlotte glanced at the front of the store. “I can help for chocolate drops.”
“Deal.” Josie jumped up. She had no tea party prepared, but she could provide an all-you-can-eat chocolate experience. “Why don’t you change behind those curtains and I’ll fill up the candy dish?”
“I can eat them now?” Wonder widened Charlotte’s eyes.
“As many as you want, as long as you change.” Josie pointed at the pristine white apron of Charlotte’s costume. Mimi had convinced Josie that grass stains on the playground would ruin the princess costume. Josie had relented and worn the dress only after school. “You might be Mrs. Claus and known for baking all sorts of treats for the elves, but you don’t want chocolate stains on your outfit before your big stage debut.”
Charlotte disappeared behind the thick velvet curtains of the dressing room. Josie grinned at the twins. “One more round of airplane.”
The twins took off, increasing their flight pattern to include a full circle around one of the rolling wedding dress racks and a flyby of Josie’s bridal accessory wall. Josie dumped the bag of chocolate candy into a glass bowl and set the candy dish on