Page 35 of Sew Matcha in Love
“Okay,” Penny said. “But know that it’s more than I dreamed already.”
I grinned. “Thank you.”
It was great to have Nellie, June, my table, equipment, and supplies back in the front room. I directed Penny to stand on a small stepladder I pulled out from behind my dresser of notions. We chatted as I pinned the hem of the gown’s satin and sheer overlay, which covered the center panel. The short, puffed sleeves also had a matching sheer overlay ending in a casing that I’d strung a ribbon through to tie in a bow.
“All right. Go change and bring me back the dress. We’ll drape it on June here”—I pointed to the dress form—“and play with the accents.”
Penny grinned. “Be back in a jif!”
A thump above my head made me jump. So that’s where Monty went. Another thump, followed by a thunk.
Then barking. Lots of barking.
“Monty! You okay up there?” I called up the stairs. “You aren’t traumatizing the dogs, are you?”
“Fine!” he called back. “Just—uh—doing backflips to make Melody laugh!”
He and Tasha coached an all-star Worlds team at the sportsplex, and Monty prided himself on being the best tumbler in the world. “Well, don’t crash through the floor!” I yelled back. “Those boards are old!”
“Ten-four!”
I shook my head and checked my phone. Zaki had texted a picture of the girls and Ryleigh sitting on the bleachers with some other kids and a young woman who held a tablet. A few rows up, in the shadows and a little out of focus, was a group of women around my age, who I assumed were their moms. I recognized Kami sitting with Brenna Trotter and Taylor Brewer—both from Palmer City—holding little ones of various ages and pointing toward the ice.
The caption read, “Sources tell me the girls told Ryleigh about your hockey lesson and now they’re plotting a group lesson for the Wags. Our social media manager, Mags, is all over it!”
I didn’t know if I was supposed to text back or not, so I put my phone back on the charger and made a mental note to mention it in conversation when they returned.
Penny joined me in the front room, and we draped the dress gently over June. I adjusted the width of the form to the correct fit.
I waved her over to the table next to the sewing machine where I’d laid out various samples of laced and beaded appliques, lengths of lace and beads, and embroidered ribbons, and a few sketches of ideas I’d had for the center panel.
“These are all so pretty,” Penny breathed. “I love this sketch of the harp embroidery with the bronze thread. How would you even do that on such fine material as the sheer overlay?”
“It would be set into the dress panel, and it wouldn’t be too difficult. I located a harp stamp, and I’d use fabric chalk to lay out the pattern. Then it’s just a matter of embroidering the stitching over the lines. The sheer is thin enough and has a sheen to it that will enhance and bring out the metallic thread underneath.”
“You make it sound easy.”
“It’s not too hard. It took me years of trying different methods to figure out stitch techniques that worked for designs like this, which fabrics to use, and which methods I enjoyed. This will be time-consuming but also therapeutic. It gives me a chance to sit quietly and relax.”
“And you can do that with the girls and dogs?” She quickly snapped her mouth shut. “I’m sorry. I just can’t seem to get anything done with the baby at home.”
“I understand. I used to nanny for Shanna, remember? It was tough with one, and when the second came along, it was near impossible to do anything except take care of them. But they grew and became more independent, and there were nap times. Melody won’t be a baby forever, Penny. Before you can blink, she’ll be in kindergarten like Isla and Amelie and able to entertain herself while you work—or play your harp.”
“That’s what K-Kami k-keeps telling me. B-b-but it’s … hard.” She sniffled and took a long breath in and out. “Sorry for breaking down again. I feel so helpless and unproductive. And then my b-big b-brute of a b-brother-in-law swoops in and calms her storm in s-seconds.” She sighed.
I wrapped my arms around her, concerned to hear the return of her stutter. “Accept the help, Penny. And don’t doubt for a minute how incredible of a mom you are.”
She gave me a squeeze. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. Now let’s pick adornments for the bodice. You’re going to be belle of the ball!”
She grinned. “Nah. But maybe the gal of the gala.”
I laughed. “The gal of the gala, then!”
We were just finishing up when Monty came down the stairs with Melody and the dogs. Their nails clitter-clattered softly down the newly-polished hardwood steps as they raced each other to the bottom.
“She’s napped, been changed, and had a snack of those puffy things that melt in her mouth.” Monty oriented Melody so she could see Penny, and the baby reached her little sweater-clad arms toward her mother. Monty pulled her from her wrapping and handed her to Penny.
