Lorea’s face had red splotches, and she blinked her eyes to clear them.
I pointed at the gown with the gaping hole. “Let’s concentrate on one problem at a time. You fix the hole. I know you can work with that diva. I’ll back you up.”
I knelt next to the box and began tossing the packing paper back in, but I froze when I focused on something caught in the tape lining the bottom of the box. Leaning forward, I reached for the tiny pearl. Three more beads were stuck in the corner. “Did any of the other dresses have pearl beading?”
“No, it was just that one.”
“Let’s empty the box and see if we can find any more of these beads.”
“Huh?” Lorea studied the bead in my hand and gasped as I picked up the others.
A powdery residue hugged the corners of the cardboard. The packing tape glimmered in the light with the same fine particles.
“What’s this?” Lorea held up a shiny piece of metal.
My skin prickled with goosebumps. “That looks like part of a razor blade.” I closed my eyes, but not before the image of blood trickling down a knife point seared my consciousness. A foreboding sense of discomfort broke through my dam of positive thinking. A million negative outcomes flowed through my mind, and I felt cords of tension tightening my shoulders. Taking a deep breath, I opened my eyes, commanding myself to stay in the present and focus on Lorea. “I don’t understand. Do you think our shipment was tampered with?”
Lorea tilted the silver blade. “How fast can you get China on the phone?”
Chapter 2
Vintage Bridal Shower Favors:
Five-Minute Lavender Sachets
Lay flat one doily or lace-edged handkerchief, and arrange lavender buds in center. Bring fabric up around the buds and tie off with ribbon or string to form a small bundle of buds. Your guests will enjoy these unique favors, which can be used to refresh a drawer, a car, a closet, or even a coat pocket.
Courtesy of www.mashedpotatoesandcrafts.com.
An hour later, my hands were still shaking from the tension radiating through my body. The dress-making company in China assured me that all the gowns had been shipped, so something must have happened in transit.
I gripped the edge of the countertop and studied the gray and black flecks of paint. My customers didn’t know it was paint; my mother had helped me mask it to look like granite. The flecks of colors turned into so many dollar symbols before my eyes. With a shake of my head, I told Lorea, “They’re opening a case for investigation with the shipping company, and I’ll do the same from my end. They won’t charge us for the dress, but we won’t be seeing it anytime soon, either.”
Lorea frowned as she snipped off a piece of thread. “So as long as Sylvia likes this dress, we’ll survive.” She continued working her tiny stitches to repair the hole in the gown.
I knew Lorea was struggling to look on the bright side. That was usually my game. Rolling my shoulders back, I put on my best fake smile. “This is nothing we can’t handle, right?” I swaggered over to her side, flipped one of my blonde curls over my shoulder, and splayed my fingers, pretending to adjust a diamond on my left hand. “Beauty is no accident,” I said with a sniff.
Lorea looked at me and laughed. She knew I was imitating Sylvia Rockfort, which made the situation even more hilarious because Lorea was usually the one poking fun at her least-favorite client. “You’re terrible, you know that?”
The laughter zapped some of my stress, and I slid down into one of the office chairs we’d recovered with my signature teal, cream, and purple fabrics. “It really is strange to think that someone might have stolen that gown en route. How much were you going to sell it for?”
“We weren’t sure because of the pearl beading, but I was thinking around six thousand.” Lorea smoothed the edge of the gown and examined it with a furrowed brow. “What do you think?”
“You’re amazing.” I leaned forward and could barely make out the tiny stitches in the hemline. “No one will ever know the difference.”
“You’d better hope so because Sylvia will be here soon.”
“Okay, let’s stow these boxes first. We’re supposed to give them back to Colton as part of the shipping inquiry.”
After I helped her haul out the boxes, Lorea called Sylvia so that she could prepare for her first bridal fitting.
“She said she’ll try to get here before one o’clock.” Lorea replaced the phone and began a thorough inspection of each wedding gown.
“Do you need my help?”
“I got this.” Lorea’s fingers moved rapidly along the bodice of a dress, checking for imperfections.
“Good. I’ve got some craft work to do before I run errands.”
An hour later, my eyes were watering from scheduling several posts on the website I had created with my mom: mashedpotatoesandcrafts.com. It was a hit in the virtual sphere of crafting, recipes, and DIY wedding tips. My mom still couldn’t believe that people from all over the world flocked to the site where country girls from Idaho shared their penchant for spuds and crafts. A craft blog was my guilty pleasure but one that worked perfectly with my wedding planning certification. I had created the site to share my favorite things with everyone, not just those in wedding mode, and so far it had been a lot of fun. Mashedpotatoesandcrafts.com had also given me one more way to document ideas I could share with prospective clients.
I read through the simple steps needed to create favors for a vintage bridal shower. The pictures of “Five-Minute Lavender Sachets” made with antique hankies or lace doilies matched up perfectly with the instructions. My readers would love the idea, and I thought Lorea might like to do something similar for Natalie Berlin’s bridal shower.
Clicking off the site, I stood and stretched, ignoring the dull pain in the
