Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 92140 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 461(@200wpm)___ 369(@250wpm)___ 307(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92140 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 461(@200wpm)___ 369(@250wpm)___ 307(@300wpm)
“You mentioned you were serious about dance once before. Was it hard to quit?”
“So hard,” I said. “I agonized over it.”
“How old were you?”
“Fifteen. But it was the right decision for me. Once I got over feeling like a failure, I realized I was much happier. That’s when I took up sewing and got really interested in fashion design.”
“You can sew too?”
“Yes. I make a lot of my own clothes.”
“You’re a woman of many talents, Millie MacAllister. Some of them I can talk about, and some of them I can’t.” He sneezed.
I giggled. “Bless you. Did you get your soup last night?”
“I did.”
“How about the tea?”
“Ah . . . I failed at tea.”
“Do you have any aromatherapy candles?”
He laughed, which made the coughing worse.
I sighed. “I’ll take that as a no. Just make sure you keep drinking liquids and getting enough sleep.”
“Thanks,” he said when he could talk again. “Speaking of which, isn’t it late for you?”
“It is. I tried to sleep but couldn’t. I think I’m nervous about this business thing. I don’t want to make a mistake.”
“What does your gut say?”
“That it’s right.”
“Then it is. You’ve got good instincts, Millie MacAllister. Trust them.”
I smiled. “I appreciate that.”
“And keep me posted.”
“Okay. I hope you feel better. Drink some tea!”
He laughed, and the sound warmed my body. “Goodnight.”
“Goodnight.” I set my phone back on the charger and rolled over, pulling the blankets up to my shoulders.
I remembered falling asleep with his arms around me and waking up in the cozy warmth of his embrace. I thought about his voice, sometimes deep and serious, sometimes quiet and confessional, sometimes teasing and playful. I breathed in, hoping for a trace of his smell, but smelled only fabric softener and remembered I’d washed the sheets.
If only the feelings I had for him would fade as easily as his scent.
Instead, it felt like they were growing stronger.
The following morning at work, I spoke on the phone with the commercial real estate agent Frannie knew, a woman named Maxima Radley. The name sounded vaguely familiar, and Frannie said that was because it was Maxima who helped her start her own bakery years ago. I loved that, and so did Maxima.
“This is fate,” she said after I told her what I was looking for. “I’m going to find you the perfect spot. I already have one in mind.”
“You do?”
“Yes. It’s an address right on Front Street. It’s a historic building with a ton of charm. It was originally a hatmaker’s—a millinery—but more recently it was a gift shop.”
“I think I know the one you mean,” I said, recalling the vacant storefront from my last few visits downtown. “Front Street would be perfect. But that’s probably pretty high rent.”
“Well, it’s not a huge place,” said Maxima. “In fact, you’d probably only have room for a couple dressing rooms, assuming you need a large mirrored area for fittings.”
“I would.”
“And there wouldn’t be a ton of room for racks or anything.”
“I can use rolling racks if needed,” I said, recalling what Alison had said about making the most of space. “And when I start out, I won’t have a ton of inventory.”
“Let’s just go see it. It has a lot of the things you’re looking for—high ceilings, tall front windows, exposed brick walls, and the location is excellent.”
“Okay,” I said. “It does sound amazing.”
“I’ll be honest and say it does need some work. But that might keep the rent down. I’ll contact the building owner and a few others and get back to you with possible appointment times.”
“Sounds good, Maxima. Thank you.”
After we hung up, I mustered my courage and sent an email to Chloe, asking her if she had any time to chat with me today. Before hitting send, I chewed my thumbnail for a moment. For some reason, this one thing felt like my biggest step so far—it meant actually leaving something behind. Once I left Cloverleigh Farms, I couldn’t turn back.
Then I remembered Alison’s words: Sometimes a dream won’t wait.
I hit send.
Chloe’s grin appeared before I even finished my prepared opening. “Oh my God,” she said, her eyes lighting up. “This is an amazing idea and you have to do it.”
“Really?” I was on the edge of my seat. “You’re not upset?”
“Of course not! Yes, you’re an outstanding event planner and I love having you at Cloverleigh Farms, but you’re family too! I want what’s best for you.”
“Thank you,” I said, relaxing into the chair across from her desk and placing a hand on my chest. “I was so worried about upending things around here.”
She waved a hand dismissively. “Don’t be silly. You said Winnie might be interested in the job?”
“She definitely is. If you’re up for hiring her, she would leave Abelard. She said she could do it on good terms.”
“The position here is hers if she wants it,” Chloe said. “Just have her give me a call. Do you have any idea about a timeline?”