Page 8 of Sew Matcha in Love
Arwyn clucked her tongue in disapproval. “That won’t do. Take three steps toward me. Stand tall. Arms at your sides. Feet shoulder-width apart.”
“Yes, ma’am.” I stepped as directed and stood as instructed.
“All right. Amelie, on the pad is the outline of a person, with a line at each spot I need to measure. You can see they’re lettered. The head is A, the neck is B, et cetera. I’ll call out the letter, and you write the number. Isla, are you ready with that tape?”
“Yes!”
“Great! We’ll start with your dad’s head and work our way down.”
Three pairs of eyes gazed up at me.
“Wynnie?” Isla whispered. “How do I get up there? Daddy isverytall.”
“Indeed,” Arwyn whispered back. “Ask him to sit on the sofa.”
“Okay.” She raised her voice. “Daddy! Sofa, please.”
I crossed to the sofa and sat. Isla kicked off her sparkly plastic heels and scrambled up onto the cushion. My arms shot out to steady her and keep her from getting tangled in the tape.
Arwyn instructed Isla as she wrapped the tape around my head. “Looks good. Now pull it snug.”
I winced as my daughter yanked it so tight I was sure it had cut into my skin.
“Not tight, Isla. Snug. Like this.” Arwyn’s fingers lightly brushed my ear. The tape loosened to a point where I could hardly feel it, like a whisper on my forehead. “We don’t want his hat to be too tight or too small.” Isla took the tape from her and mimicked her actions.
At least I thought she did. I didn’t have eyes on the top of my head, so I couldn’t swear to it in court, but it sure felt the same.
“Perfect, Isla!” Arwyn called out the measurement to Amelie, who recorded it on the sketchpad. “Now, his neck.”
“Please hold still, Mr. Marsch,” Isla instructed seriously. She expertly wrapped the tape around my neck. I thought about pretending to choke but didn’t think Arwyn or the girls would appreciate the humor.
Arwyn squinted at the tape at my neck and called out the number to Amelie, then leaned over to check her work and praised her for her neat writing. “Great job, you two!”
My girls beamed with pride, and I couldn’t help smiling with them.
This wasn’t how I’d pictured the consultation going, but it was fun, and the girls were having a great time. Part of me wondered if this was Arwyn’s way of interviewingusinstead of the other way around.
I didn’t care. I could tell at the Coffee Loft she was great with kids, and as far as I was concerned, the job was hers. I just hoped we were passing her tests, whatever they were.
She motioned for me to stand again, and I reclaimed the spot she’d directed me to earlier. “Isla, let’s measure Mr. Marsch’s waist next. He’ll have to stand for this. You’ll need a stool. Ah! That ottoman over there by the window.” I watched with interest as she rushed over to the small footstool and brought it over, setting it on the ground at my side.
Isla climbed up and stretched the tape out in front of her. “Mr. Marsch, could you please hold your arms out?”
I raised them high, and she attempted to wrap the tape around me. Arwyn stepped in, guiding and sliding it until Isla held it in place.
“Thirty-eight!” Isla called to Amelie. “Right, Wynnie?” she whispered.
Arwyn nodded. “Correct.”
They continued to measure me, and I had to admit I was having a great time. I loved how Arwyn let the girls assist. It did cross my mind that maybe I made her nervous and the less shehad to touch me, the better. I’d noticed her cheeks reddening at times, like when she had to measure my hips and thighs, but I couldn’t be sure if that was because of me or modesty.
When she finally stepped back, satisfied, I let out a low whistle. “That was intense. You always take your job so seriously?”
“Yes,” she replied simply, rolling up her measuring tape. “Were you aware your right arm is half an inch shorter than your left?”
“I am now. Hey, you forgot my inseam,” I teased.
Her eyes widened, and if I thought her cheeks were rosy earlier, they were scarlet now. I held her gaze in a challenge.
