Page 35 of Threads of Kindness
“The ladies’ room isn’t the nicest place for this conversation…” Sunday hesitated.
“Don’t stand on ceremony with me,” Lyla said gently. “What can I do to help?”
“My folks have both passed. I was an only child and so were both of my parents, so I don’t have anyone to walk me down the aisle,” Sunday said. “I can walk by myself, but you know what a traditionalist I am. This isn’t the norm—but you are my best friend and will soon be my mother-in-law. Would you walk me down the aisle, Lyla?”
The words reverberated off the tile and porcelain. The silence crackled with emotion.
“I’d love to,” Lyla said, her voice brimming with emotion.
The two women stepped together and hugged.
Lyla was the first to pull back. “I can’t tell you how much this means to me,” she said. “I waited decades for a family I never thought I’d have—and look at me now.”
She turned toward the mirror, grabbed a paper towel from the dispenser, and dabbed at the tear tracks of mascara under her eyes. Their eyes met in the mirror.
“If you don’t have lunch plans tomorrow, let’s go out somewhere so we can really talk,” Lyla said.
“I’d love that,” Sunday said. “And now—I’m off to order that dress before someone else snags it.”
CHAPTER 18
Anita rose from her desk and strolled through the workroom to the window at the front of her shop.
“You’re going to wear a path in the floor,” her workroom supervisor teased.
Anita chuckled. “I know,” she said, tapping the face of her smartwatch. “I’m getting in my 10,000 steps every day, pacing between my desk and the window.” She stared across the square at Candy Alley.
As promised, the executor of Charlotte’s estate had responded to the request Tim had made on her behalf. A van had appeared the day after she, Gordon, and Tim toured the premises. Lettering on the side of the vehicle proclaimed:Junk Removal Pros — We Handle All Your Refuse Removal Needs.
Anita had seen the van pull up first thing in the morning. She’d watched from her shop window as a crew of four workers entered Candy Alley. A dumpster had arrived at the curb by midmorning. She’d grabbed a cup of coffee and stood at the window as the workers deposited trashcan after trashcan of refuse into it.
The supervisor joined her at the window.
“I never would’ve guessed there was so much junk in that place,” she said.
“Right?” Anita replied. “I was shocked when I went through the premises the other day. I’m glad to see they got started on this so quickly.”
“Are they taking everything out of the space?” her supervisor asked.
“I hope not,” Anita replied. “We asked that they leave the old display cases and the cash register. Those are vintage items that would be a great addition to my museum.”
“What happens after all the junk is gone?”
“Exterminators will arrive—the place is infested with mice or rats. Probably both.”
“Yuck!”
“When that’s done, they’ve promised to bring in a commercial cleaning crew to remove the layers of dust, grime, and rodent scat.”
The supervisor placed her hand gently on Anita’s elbow. “You really want this space, don’t you?”
Anita nodded. “I’m afraid so. As bad as it is, I see its potential.”
The supervisor took one last look over her shoulder at the active scene across the square.
“Our seamstresses know how badly you want this,” she said. “We’re rooting for you.”
Anita turned to face the workroom. “Thank you,” she said. “I appreciate your support.”
