“I do have a favor to ask of you,” Cassie confessed. “I wonder if you would mind if I make you a dress?”
Bonnie had been sure Cassie had called about her approaching wedding, and this surprising offer required a mental adjustment. “You want to make a dress for me?”
“Well, I’d like to design and then sew a dress for you. I need a quick extra credit project for a class, and I came up with the idea of sketching out a petite clothing line. I’ll make a dress from one of the sketches, and I’ll gift it to you after I’ve photographed it and submitted it to the professor. Would you mind?”
“No, of course not. I’m flattered that you consider me a suitable model for your design. Or am I just the shortest person you know?” Bonnie added with a laugh.
Cassie chuckled, too. “Of course not. But I would like to experiment with some designs for you. Petite with curves is a very different silhouette than the tall, very thin standard fashion model. A different challenge for a designer. You have a great shape and I’d love to make a great dress for you.”
“Aren’t you graduating in just a few weeks?”
“I finish four weeks from today, the week before the wedding. Which means I have about ten days to get this done.”
“Last-minute decision?”
“In a way. I wasn’t sure I’d have time, what with the wedding plans and making my own wedding dress and all, but it turns out I’m somewhat ahead of schedule on everything. I don’t really need the extra credit, but if I have too much time on my hands before the wedding, I’ll just go crazy, so I thought I’d give this a try, if you’re game.”
“It sounds like fun,” Bonnie said honestly.
“Great. So, when are you free to get together for preliminary measurements? I can come there, or—if it wouldn’t be too much trouble—you could come to Dad’s house, where I have all my sewing and fitting supplies set up for the next few weeks.”
Even as she and Cassie made plans, Bonnie wondered if Paul was aware of this project. And if so, what he thought of having her even more entangled in his family life—at least until after his daughter’s wedding.
Sweaty, grass-stained and sore, Paul turned his car into the driveway of his home Sunday afternoon, thinking that maybe he’d overdone it a bit that weekend. Still sunburned from yesterday’s kayaking trip, he’d joined several of the same companions and quite a few others today for a rousing game of soccer in a nearby park. His right shin throbbed from a sliding tackle contact that had left a thin smear of dried blood mixed with the dirt on his shorts-bared leg. That tackle had been executed by a female player close to twenty years his junior and maybe a hundred ten pounds soaking wet. He had taken only slim satisfaction in rocketing a hard instep kick straight past her and into the goal a few plays later, after which he’d limped to his team’s side and collapsed onto the bench to suck some air into his tired lungs.
He’d held his own, he reminded himself. He was just going to pay for it later, probably a bit more than some of the younger players would. He hadn’t been the oldest player on the pitch, but he’d been one of only a few close to forty.
>
As he pulled into the driveway he noticed an extra car behind Cassie’s little economy model. He recognized it with a start. He’d helped Bonnie stash fresh veggies in that car at the farmers’ market less than two weeks ago.
What on earth was Bonnie doing here? Parking, he pushed a hand through his tousled hair, aware of how grubby and disheveled he looked. Had to be something to do with the wedding, he figured. Maybe a sudden development, since neither Cassie nor Bonnie had mentioned this visit to him. For Cassie’s sake, he hoped it wasn’t anything serious, though knowing his daughter, she’d deal admirably with whatever it was.
He wondered if there was any way he could sneak into the house and get a quick shower before greeting Bonnie, who was sure to look as tidy and collected as always. At the very least, he’d like to wash his face and hands.
Carrying his gym bag in his left hand, he let himself into the kitchen and headed straight for the stairs. He didn’t hear voices, but he assumed Cassie and Bonnie—maybe Kinley, too, if this was indeed a meeting about the wedding—were in the living room in the front of the house.
Walking softly so as not to draw attention to his arrival, he reached the top of the stairs and headed for his bedroom at the end of the hallway. He stopped in his tracks at the open doorway of the third bedroom, which Cassie had been using as a sewing room since she’d moved back in.
Too busy chatting to have heard his quiet arrival, Cassie and Bonnie stood in the cluttered bedroom, surrounded by fabric and garments, sewing machines, an iron and ironing board, a dressmaker’s form and stacked boxes holding what he assumed to be other sewing supplies. An open sketchbook lay on the bed next to a tablet computer and a handful of colored pencils scattered across the duvet. He noted all those details from his peripheral vision, but his attention was focused solely on the center of the room, where Bonnie stood with her arms extended while Cassie focused on the measuring tape she’d wrapped around Bonnie’s bustline. Paul was unable to resist looking in that direction, himself. For a small woman, Bonnie had a very nice shape—an observation that caused him to shift his weight uncomfortably and move his gym bag in front of him.
Perhaps it was that movement that drew Bonnie’s attention in his direction. Seeing him standing there, she started and dropped her arms, dislodging the measuring tape. A wave of pink brightened her cheeks, though she managed a slightly abashed smile to greet him.
Looking around, Cassie said somewhat distractedly, “Oh, hi, Dad. I was just measuring Bonnie. You’re home earlier than I expected.”
“I decided to pass on the beer-and-pizza run after the match. Um, why were you measuring Bonnie?”
Making a notation on the sketch pad, Cassie replied without looking up. “I’m making a dress for her. It’s an extra credit project for a class, and she very generously agreed to model for me. Didn’t I mention it?”
“No, you didn’t.” For some reason, he suspected the omission had been deliberate, though he wasn’t sure why she hadn’t told him about the project. He glanced toward Bonnie, who was busily smoothing her fitted top over her floral skirt, seemingly giving the task much more attention than it warranted. “Hi.”
Her hands stilled and she returned his smile, though he thought it looked just a bit strained. “Hi.”
Was she embarrassed to have been caught in a somewhat awkward position? To assure her she shouldn’t be, he kept his tone light when he said, “So Cassie roped you into being a dressmaker’s dummy, huh? I won’t tell you how many times she’s draped fabric over me.”
Bonnie’s eyebrows rose. “I didn’t know you made menswear, Cassie.”
Paul sighed dramatically. “She doesn’t.”