Chapter 22
S unday hovered at the edge of Lyla’s desk. Her friend, hunched over her keyboard, hammered numbers into a spreadsheet. Sunday cleared her throat, and Lyla finally looked up.
“You’re focused on what you’re doing,” Sunday said. “I’m sorry to disturb you.”
Lyla pushed herself into the back of her chair. “Year-end reports,” she said. “I’ll be at these for weeks. What’s up?”
“I wanted to let you know I’m leaving early today,” Sunday said.
“Wedding plans?” Lyla asked.
“Absolutely,” Sunday replied. “I’m headed to Celebrations to order our invitations.”
“You’re sticking with the chapel?”
Sunday nodded. “Josh and I went there at lunchtime. It’s going to be perfect.”
“I’m glad,” Lyla said. “I think so too. Did you order your dress?”
“Yes,” Sunday said. “I received an email saying it has shipped. I can’t wait for it to arrive, so I can get it to Anita for alterations.”
“Since you’ll be close to Archer’s Bridal this afternoon, I suggest you stop in to see Anita,” Lyla said. “Show her a photo of the dress. One look and I bet she’ll be able to tell how straightforward it will be to adjust.”
“Great idea,” Sunday said. “I’ll do that.”
“I don’t want to stick my nose in,” Lyla added, “but I’m interested in every detail. I’d love to see the invitations you select.”
“Of course,” Sunday said. “I’ll take photos on my phone. You’re still my BFF, and I want to share everything with you.”
Lyla chuckled. “Have fun.”
“Will do. I’ll fill you in tomorrow,” Sunday said, and walked away.
She made the drive to the square in record time and found a parking spot in front of Celebrations. The square wasn’t busy in the middle of this weekday afternoon. Sunday checked her watch—she was twenty minutes early for her appointment with Judy. A visit to Anita wouldn’t make her late.
Sunday entered Archer’s Bridal a few minutes later. The workroom supervisor welcomed her, and Sunday asked if Anita was available.
Anita heard Sunday’s voice from her desk in the next room and came out to meet her. They exchanged greetings, and Anita inquired about how the wedding plans were coming along.
“I’m working through my list,” Sunday said. “It feels daunting, but I know I’ll get through it. I stopped in today to show you a photo of the wedding dress I ordered online.”
“I’d love to see it,” Anita said.
Sunday pulled her phone out of her purse and scrolled through her photos. “Here,” she said, turning the screen toward Anita. “It’s this one.”
Anita looked from the photo to Sunday and back again. “This style will be stunning on you,” she said. “Very graceful. The skirt should move beautifully as you walk down the aisle.”
Sunday placed her hand on her heart. “I love hearing that,” she said. “I didn’t even think about how it wouldmove.”
“You’ve made a great choice. Do you know when you’ll receive it?”
“I received an email saying it has shipped. They provided the tracking number, so I’ll check every day. I came here to show you the photo and ask if you think it’ll be feasible to alter it.”
Anita took the phone and expanded the photo with two fingers, studying it carefully. She removed her reading glasses and handed the phone back. “Yes—as long as the dress isn’t more than a size or two off, this will be easy to alter. The only issue will be if it’s way too short.”
“I don’t think it will be,” Sunday said. “The listing included the length, and, if anything, it should be too long.”
“A full skirt like that takes time to hem, but it’s very doable,” Anita said. “I think you’re set.” She smiled at Sunday.
“That’s a relief. I’m nervous, ordering a dress this close to my wedding. I need this one to work.”
“I’m sure it will,” Anita said. “Bring it in the moment you get it. In fact, I suggest you wait to try it on until you come in—getting yourself into that dress will be a two-person job.”
Sunday laughed. “I never would’ve guessed. I’ll call you as soon as it arrives.”
Anita put her hand on Sunday’s elbow. “Even if it’s delivered on the weekend, call me. I’ll open the shop so you can try it on. I know how anxious you are.”
“That’s so nice of you,” Sunday said. “But I don’t want you to come to the shop on your day off.”
“About that,” Anita said, smiling. “I’m spending most of my time here these days. You’ll hear about it soon enough—I purchased the old Candy Alley building.”
“The one across the square?” Sunday asked.
“Yep,” Anita said. “I bought it for my sewing machine museum.”
Sunday clapped her hands. “That’ll be theperfectplace for it. When do you plan to open it?”
“The building’s in sad shape,” Anita said. “We’ve got months of renovations ahead of us.”
“Do you still want to display some of your machines in the exhibit space at the library, like we discussed before Christmas? It’s cleaned up and ready to go.”
“I’ve been so wrapped up in buying this property and planning the renovations that I forgot about your kind offer,” Anita said. “I’d love to have a mini display at the library.”
“We’ll put up a sign that announces the museum is Coming Soon . When you have an opening date, we’ll redo the sign to include the date.”
It was Anita’s turn to press her hand to her heart. “I’m so grateful,” she said.
“You haven’t toured the space,” Sunday reminded her. “Come to the library, so you get an idea of how many machines you’ll be able to display. If you give me basic info on the machines, I’ll make placards to post by each one. When can you stop by?”
“Are you headed back to the library now?” Anita asked.
Sunday shook her head. “I’m on my way to Celebrations to order my invitations. That shouldn’t take too long. I’d be happy to go to the library with you when I’m done.”
“I don’t want you to hurry your decision,” Anita said. “If you’re working tomorrow, I’ll stop by first thing in the morning, before I open the shop.”
“That’ll be perfect,” Sunday said.
“I’ll see you then,” Anita said, walking Sunday to the door. “And please keep me posted about your dress. I can’t wait to see you in it.”
The person staffing the information desk called Sunday to let her know she had a visitor. Sunday grabbed a notebook and pen and headed downstairs. She and Anita greeted each other with a hug.
“Did you get your invitations ordered?” Anita asked.
Sunday nodded. “They’re so pretty! The background is a pale peach that mimics a watercolor finish. An inset border of pale green vines frames the text, which is printed in a scrolly—but not too fancy—font. There was so much to choose from that it took me almost two hours to decide.”
“Believe me,” Anita said, “that was fast. Since Judy and I both work with brides, we compare notes. She’s told me stories of brides and their mothers who spend hours looking through invitation books and come back to the store several times before they make a decision.”
“Good grief,” Sunday said.
“That you finished in two hours may make you the most decisive bride of the year. I’ll bet Judy even closed the shop on time and was home for dinner.”
“Not quite,” Sunday said with a laugh. “We had so much fun chatting that I spent another hour and a half talking with her after she closed up.”
Anita smiled. “Judy’s a good listener. That’s why she knows everything going on in this town— she’s genuinely interested in what people have to say. People sense that in her and open up to her.”
“Honestly,” Sunday said, “I felt like she was the big sister I never had. We went over my wedding plans, and she offered some terrific suggestions.”
“I’m glad to hear it,” Anita said. “She’s very knowledgeable. I’m sure she gave you great advice.”
“We also segued into where Josh and I are going to live after the wedding.”
Anita cocked an eyebrow at her.
“He’s going to move in with me until we have time to look for a place near the center of town.
That location will be close to both of our jobs.
We’d love an older home, like the ones behind the square.
There’s a house across the street from the Olsson House that appears to be vacant.
Josh and I strolled past it on New Year’s Eve, and now I drive by it every day on my way to work.
” She sighed. “It’s not for sale, and we won’t have enough saved for a down payment for at least a year, anyway.
Even the fixer-uppers are out of our price range, so we need to find someplace to rent. ”
Anita tilted her head. “What did Judy say to that?”
“She told me she grew up in her grandmother’s house on one of the streets behind the square and inherited it when she died.
She shared the story of how she bought the Olsson House on a whim at a tax foreclosure sale—and how the hand-carved wooden ornaments in the attic led her to her husband.
If that isn’t a Hallmark Channel Christmas movie script, I don’t know what is!
” Sunday laughed. “Anyway, Judy told me she loves their neighborhood and would never consider living anywhere else. She encouraged us to keep saving our money. She said a real estate miracle might happen for us, just like it did for her when she was the successful bidder at that sale.”
Anita chuckled. “That sounds like her—and it’s solid advice. My mother used to say, ‘You never know where your good is going to come from.’”
“I like that,” Sunday said. “But you didn’t come in here to talk about my wedding invitations and our real estate woes. Let’s look at the exhibit space.” She led Anita to a large open area off the main reading room. “This is where we’re going to house our rotating exhibits.”
Anita stepped into the space. The vaulted ceiling of the first-floor room was illuminated by a ring of windows.
Wrought iron and glass pendants hung from the ceiling.
The hardwood floors added warmth to the space.
Three plexiglass display stands stood in the middle, surrounded by enclosed display cases.
Anita swiveled to face Sunday. “This will be perfect. I already know which three machines I’ll place on the display stands.” She studied the cases. “How much display space is there in those three cases?”
“Eighteen feet,” Sunday said.
“I’ll need to go home and measure my machines, but I think I’ll need eighteen inches of space for each one.”
“That’s twelve machines,” Sunday said, “plus the three that will be in the center. How soon do you want to begin setting them up?”
“I’ll look at the machines in my basement today and decide what I want to display,” Anita said. “Are you sure you have time to make the information placards for me?”
“Absolutely,” Sunday said. “I love doing that sort of thing. Send me a photo of each machine, together with any information you have, and I’ll work up the placards. I’ll send everything to you for approval before I print them.”
“That’s so helpful,” Anita said.
“Lyla Kershaw is an artist, and she’s designing the signs for the front of the library and the one that will go at the entrance to the exhibit in the main reading room.”
“You’re making this so easy for me,” Anita said gratefully.
“I think it’s going to be a very popular attraction,” Sunday said. “It’ll draw people into the library.” She snapped her fingers. “I’ve had another idea—we’ll set up a QR code to the museum’s website on the signage.”
Anita looked at her with a blank expression.
“The website will include a sign-up link for your newsletter,” Sunday explained.
“My newsletter?” Anita asked, wide-eyed.
“Of course! You’ll need a newsletter to stay in touch with museum patrons. We’ll also link to your social media accounts.”
Anita placed her hands on either side of her face. “Social media? I didn’t even think of that. Can’t I just open my museum, put out a sign on the sidewalk, and leave it at that?”
“Not if you want it to be successful in this day and age,” Sunday said with a smile. “Don’t worry about all that. I’ll help you get everything set up and teach you what and how to post. Once you get going, it’ll only take a few minutes a week.”
“This is way more work than you bargained for, Sunday. You’ve got a wedding to plan. I can’t ask this of you.”
“You didn’t ask me,” Sunday said. “I offered. And I’m glad to help.”
“But—” Anita began.
Sunday held up a hand to silence her. “Your job is to select what you want to display. Mine is to make the rest of this happen.”
Anita blew out a breath and turned in a slow circle. “I’m going to make a beautiful exhibit for you,” she said. “The library will be proud.”
“And we’re going to make yours the must-see new museum in the state.”