***
Footsore and soul-weary, Ella kicked her door closed and hauled the bags of cloth to her table. She’d had to estimate amounts while waiting in horrendous lines at Margery Fabric. The ticket counter ran out, and so the poor women at the cutting tables had to stop cutting in order to put refills in. The numbers got all out of order. Ella had been sure a fight would break out over who would be cutting their material next.
It wasn’t even grandmas. It was young moms. Everyone seemed to lose all sense of other people this time of year.
Though she wanted nothing more than to curl up under the covers in her bed with a good book, Ella began digging out folded cuts of cloth from the gray plastic bag and paused. Her table was cleared off? When did that happen? Where did the cuts for her dress go?
She was losing her mind. Ella shook her head as if that would rattle her memory back into place.
“I must have forgotten I moved it,” she said to herself, too frazzled to care. “It’ll turn up later.”
Time was ticking. She was already facing a long night as it was.
Ella worked like the only honeybee in a hive, cutting, pinning, and sewing. Cutting, pinning, and sewing. One pillowcase really took only about an hour to put together once everything was ready. Somehow, she knew she would get all ten pillowcases done.
Even though she had the next morning off at Ever After, her body hadn’t gotten the memo. Routine was too embedded in her, and her entire frame sensed when eight o’clock struck.
“Morning comes too soon,” she said, leaving her piles. She still had tomorrow.
With Stina’s scheduling, getting the new pillowcases finished and to the hospital in time, and her gown in pieces, Hawk Danielson’s ball the following evening was becoming a distant, unreachable fantasy.
CHAPTER TEN
Ella’s gown filled her dreams. She fantasized of showing up at Ever After Corporate, and making a grand entrance in her beautiful dress while its train swept the way behind her. She imagined capturing Hawk’s attention, of him recognizing her as the woman in the elevator, of being swept into his arms and thoroughly kissed.
The dream hung around her neck, whispering its invention even after she woke on December Twenty-fourth, even after she ate her puffed rice cereal and began pinning and sewing all over again.
The morning passed quickly, thanks to being able to sleep in for the first time in years and the noise of her sewing machine’s needle chugging in time to Christmas music. Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas was always Ella’s favorite. She loved the movie it originally premiered from: Meet Me in St. Louis.
Memories surfaced of sewing with her mom and grandma as a child. They’d made quilts, and clothes, all while playing old movies and musicals in Grammy’s living room. Grammy had a designated sewing closet, built specifically as a space for her machine, fabric, patterns, and tools.
Ella had played beneath quilt frames, watching needles being guided in and out of the fabric to create delicate lines and patterns. She’d run her fingers along the quilting, loving the feel of the cloth puffing out just enough alongside it, listening to the lighthearted laughter and intriguing conversation between her mom and grandma.
It was a life she’d loved. A fortunate, priceless upbringing. Her mother was gone, which probably made her cherish the memories even more.
Maybe she should have taken Grandma Larsen up on her offer of help. Still, it was too late now.
Ella sewed and sewed, stopping only for drinks and bathroom breaks. By three p.m., she hemmed the last pillowcase.
“Done,” she said, exasperated as she flopped back into her seat. Her back ached, her hands were tired, but at least she didn’t have to stitch these by hand. That was a plus.
In a rush, she folded each pillowcase, wrapped them carefully, individually, and then boxed them into a manageable container before making her way to the hospital.
Ella was ragged at the edges by the time she made it back home. Loneliness pinched her chest. She couldn’t let herself wallow, though. She had her health, which was more than she could say for the kids at Harmony Children’s.
After dropping her keys twice, she plugged them into the door and opened it. Ready for darkness. For a lonely nap and some ramen noodles before she had to get to Stina’s job.
But her apartment was anything but lonely.
The lights were on. The hallway from the door to the dining and kitchen area was cleared of clutter. A delicious aroma of ham and brown sugar mixed with cinnamon taunted her empty stomach.
She hadn’t stepped into a scene like this since, well, since her mom had been around. More memories triggered inside of her. Coming home from school, being greeted by her mom in an apron. Descending the stairs Christmas morning to be greeted by a cluster of presents at the base of their tree. Hugs and stories before bed. Icing cookies to leave out for Santa with her mom and singing as they cleaned up afterward.
But this couldn’t be her mom’s doing.
Female voices and high pitched laughter greeted her ears, along with the soft sound of carols being played. Ella tugged on her scarf, removed her coat, and stared.
Her living room and kitchen had all been cleaned. Surfaces wiped. Floor swept. The lights on her tiny Christmas tree beamed just a little bit brighter.
Ella trudged in enough to peer around the corner. Too near the surface the past few days, tears sprang to her eyes at the sight of Grandma Larsen beside the stove. Chloe, Adelie, and Adelie’s older sister, Suzie, whom Ella hadn’t spoken with in years outside of Facebook, also turned and greeted her from their positions around the cramped kitchen.
“What’s going on here?”
“Surprise!” Grandma and Adelie said in unison, tossing up their arms. Ella gaped at the mop in Suzie’s hands.
“You guys,” Ella said, lost for words. “Chloe, what are you doing here?
