Page 86 of Follow Your Bliss

But Jason had his back to us already, on his way out the back door. “I’ll be outside.”

“Stay,” Misty implored.

But Jason kept walking without a word, leaving me alone with them.

I swallowed down every feeling I had, directed Misty to stand beside me, and began pinning the bodice for changes. I’d have to take several inches off and redo the chiffon overlay on the bodice altogether, since now the darts I made for Kim wouldn’t lay right over Misty’s smaller breasts.

I needed to find my happy place before I had an anxiety attack to deal with, too.Deep breath in. I’m snoozing on that Florida beach in Jason’s arms, right now. We’re laughing in the waves as the golden sunset lights up the horizon. We’re kissing in the moonlight. We’re cuddled up watching movies late at night and laughing together, always laughing together.

Misty’s smile at me as I directed her where to stand was a straight pin popping the warm reverie over my head like a cartoon bubble. I adjusted her position more forcefully than necessary.

Mrs. Betty pulled a little package wrapped in tissue paper from her purse. “Rose, could you do one other small thing for me?”

I warily watched her unwrap the paper. “What’s that?”

She pulled out a blue handkerchief. “My great-grandmother carried this on her wedding day, and since then, all the women in our family have, too. But when I went to get it out for Becca, this part along the edge tore right off.”

“Oh no! Let me see?” I took it gently from her. The handkerchief was old, and so pretty. Sure enough, the fine linen fabric was torn and unraveled just inside the cotton lace edging. “It’s dry-rotted. That’s such a shame. It’s so beautiful. They don’t make fabric like this anymore.”

“Can it be fixed?”

“Well…” I inspected its construction, rifling through options in my head. “I might be able to replace this thin panel and reattach the lace. It might be hard to match the color, but I’m pretty good at dyeing. I think I could make it look like it was supposed to be there. And I can help protect it, so it won’t tear in the future.”

“Thank you so much! I’ll pay you, of course.”

No fucking way, after that getting paid comment. Besides, I was a sucker for fabric-based family traditions. “No, that’s okay. Consider it a contribution to keeping your lovely tradition alive.”

“Thank you, dear. That’s so kind.” Her voice was warm as she pressed her hand to her heart. “That’s just what I want, for future generations to be able to use it, too. I’ve always wanted to get the names of the brides who carried it embroidered on it, so that knowledge won’t die with me. Maybe I’ll try and find someone after the wedding. We’re all certainly too busy before it.”

“I love that idea! The fabric should be able to take it. It might even help keep it strong.” I carefully wrapped the handkerchief back up and sat it in a basket on my sewing table.

Mrs. Betty continued talking as I went back to my work. “I’m so excited about Becca’s wedding. And after I have my daughter married off, then I’ll find a lovely girl for my Jason.”

Mrs. Betty and Misty exchanged smiles, and I tried to bite my tongue. Tried.

“Jason’s an amazing man,” I said. “He won’t have any trouble finding a partner on his own.”

“That’s nice of you to say,” Mrs. Betty said. Hands on her hips, she looked around the room as if not quite knowing what to do with herself. She must not come here often. But why not?

“I know you two have become something like friends since you’ve been renting a room from him,” she continued, “but you may not know how he got duped into following his ex-girlfriend all the way across the country, only for her to cheat on him. He doesn’t have the best track record for picking girls to date on his own.”

I frowned. Where to place the tuck and my verbal barb? “That’s not a take I’ve heard on abusive relationships before, that the victim’s to blame for choosing their abuser. You know, people can come in the most beautiful packages but be completely rotten on the inside. And some abusers hide the ugly for longer than others. Right, Misty?”

Her eyes widened as she looked between me and Mrs. Betty. “Uh…”

But Mrs. Betty studied me for a minute, as if she’d never in her life thought of things from that perspective before. “Well. I suppose the good book says we must beware of those who come in sheep’s clothing. Kasey seemed like a nice young woman, at first.” She walked a little ways away and perched at the end of the sofa, looking uncomfortable in her own son’s home. “She sure fooled all of us.”

“Okay, I need you on your knees,” I said to Misty.

Her head turned to me so fast I almost snorted. “What?”

“Just kidding!” I said brightly. “Step up here so I can pin the hem.”

She frowned but did as I asked. “Will you bring the neckline down, too?” She poked at the modest neckline Becca had insisted on.

“No.”

“But—”

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