Page 1 of Sew Matcha in Love
CHAPTER 1
Arwyn
My drafty sewing room had nothing on the biting wind of an early January day on Main Street in Palmer City. My brain froze with each new step. Why had I chosen to walk when I could have driven?
Oh, right. My chosen word for this year was “engage.”
What had I been thinking?
Engage with nature, I could do.
Maybe.
People were another story.
The rhythm of my footfalls matched my breath, forming puffy clouds with each word I muttered just loud enough for myself to hear.
One.
More.
Step.
You.
Can.
Do.
It.
I said it over and over, passing business after business after business, their windows still framed in Christmas lightsand featuring holiday displays. I crossed Prospect Road with a longing look up the block toward the bookstore on the left and the general store on the right. A new book was always a treat, and sweet Janey and her husband, Simon, would send me off with a bag of sweets, but knowing me, with people I actually liked to people with, I’d stick around chatting and then be late for my appointment.
I plodded up the block, stopping just short of the Coffee Loft. Its line stretched out the door to its neighbor, Shanna’s Soda Shoppe—my home away from home.
It was early afternoon, so the place was virtually empty. I settled myself onto the ’50s-era vinyl and chrome barstool and reached underneath the counter to hang my purse on the shiny silver hook. Most of the town’s children were back to school after Christmas break. Toddlers were napping, the retired crowd had long since consumed their lunch, and anyone who didn’t have to be out in the biting cold was smart enough to stay inside.
Which was exactly whereI’dbe if Tasha Biddington hadn’t insisted on meeting me here. Though she had a thriving meal-catering business now, she still filled in from time to time at the Coffee Loft next door, which was where she was today. It was a game day for the Denver Edge, and Tasha’s brother-in-law had to get his magical coffee or something. NHL players in a small-town coffee shop caused quite a stir, and Tasha, her sister, Penny, and their cousin Gabby—also married to an Edge player—helped out before they headed to the game.
Normally, I wouldn’t go anywhere near the place on a game day, but Tasha was so happy with the vintage gown I’d restyled for her wedding last summer that she wanted me to custom-make a Regency gown for her sister to wear at the Biddingtons’ annual Valentine gala, so we needed to get started, like, yesterday. In this part of the state, the gala was second only to Denver’s Once Upon a Dream Ball, and I’d give my eyeteethto attend either. For now, I’d have to be content creating the gowns. But someday…
Well, a girl coulddream.
I pulled off my soft leather kid gloves and set them on the counter. The clock above the soda fountain was just shy of the hour. I scanned the empty space and sighed contentedly, proud of myGilmore Girls-obsessed friend for her accomplishments here. This place could be right out of Stars Hollow—or Disney World—with its pastel-striped papered walls, metal accents, and candy wall. I’d designed the staff uniforms, modeled after the Dapper Dans and Main Street USA trolley singers’ costumes.
Taylor Doose would be envious, no doubt.
Back when it was an ice cream shop owned by her parents and called Sundae School, it had been a second home to me. Shanna was several years older than me and was the closest thing I had to a big sister. She hadn’t been interested in sewing at all, preferring to work in the ice cream shop alongside her dad. When they’d been short-staffed, I’d fill in, but my heart was always in the sewing shop upstairs.
Helping Shanna and her family transform one generation’s family business to the next’s dream was the least I could do after spending every day after school here for as long as I could remember. Shanna’s mom refused to charge my dad for the babysitting, saying she should be paying him for my delightful company and assistance with her part-time tailoring business in their upstairs apartment.
Shanna emerged from the kitchen, adjusting the bowler hat on her head. Her expression brightened when she saw me. “Arwyn Baughn! You didn’t tell me you were coming!”
I shrugged and smiled, subconsciously checking the fit of her puff-sleeved dress. “I’m a lady of mystery,” I teased. “You never know where I might show up.”
Shanna snorted. “More like I never knowifyou’ll show up, Miss Queen of Canceling Plans.”
My hand flew to my heart in mock offense, and I fluttered my eyelashes. “Moi? Cancel?”
