Let it Sew by Elizabeth Lynn Casey Read Free Book Online

child . . .
    “Rose is right.” Tori forked up an even bigger piece of brownie and paused it mere
     inches from her mouth.
    “Maybe she is,” Leona conceded grudgingly. “But what does that have to do with us
     working with that insufferable woman on her Let’s Destroy All of Sweet Briar’s Traditions
     Committee?”
    Steadying her trembling hands inside her lap, Rose met and held Leona’s eyes. “People
     like Maime Wellington can wear multiple faces for a while. They can even be quite
     gifted at it. But somewhere along the line they will mess up, showing their true colors.
     It’s only a matter of time. It always is. By staying on that committee, three things
     will happen.”
    “And those are . . .”
    “First, we’re privy to things. What she plans to change, what she’s up to, et cetera.
     Second, we get the opportunity to see what makes her tick, thereby enabling us to
     know what buttons push her over the edge.”
    Leona perked up. “Push her over the edge?”
    The faintest hint of a smile twitched at the very corner of Rose’s mouth, yet she
     continued on. “And third, armed with that information, we can make sure the true face
     shows when it matters most.”
    “Hmmmm. Very diabolical for an old goat,” Leona mused, not unkindly. “I’m impressed.”
    “Then drive me home, will you?” Rose slid her way off the lattice-back bakery stool.
     “Maybe you can bring Paris inside for a quick little mother-son reunion before you
     have to get home to Annabelle.”
    Leona peered down at her wrist and nodded. “Margaret Louise is staying with Mama until
     I get home, but you’re right, I probably should call it a night.” Pulling Paris closer,
     Leona stood, her voice dropping to a near whisper as she addressed the still sleeping
     animal. “If Rose doesn’t shuffle her feet too much between here and the car, Paris,
     you’ll get to see your little boy off to sleep tonight.”
    Before Rose could protest the thinly disguised barb, Dixie slid off her stool as well,
     her purse held tightly in her hands. “Leona? Can I get a ride home, too? I’m ready
     to climb in bed myself and dream of the many ways in which I’d like to rid Sweet Briar
     of that smug little Grinch we had the grave misfortune of meeting tonight.”
    A chorus of agreement gave way to cheek kisses and embraces as Tori walked with her
     friends to the door of Debbie’s Bakery, their impending departure perpetuating an
     all-too-familiar sense of disappointment. And she knew why.
    Rose, Leona, Dixie, and the rest of her sewing sisters had become her family—people
     who cheered her on from the sidelines, rolled up their sleeves when she needed an
     extra pair of hands, held her when she was sad, and most important, stayed by her
     side no matter what came over the horizon. Watching a part of that walk away—even
     temporarily—was always worthy of a deep swallow and a momentary pang.
    “I’m too late, aren’t I?”
    Tori turned, a smile lifting her mouth upward. “Debbie, I didn’t know you were here.”
     Leaning forward, she brushed a kiss across the bakery owner’s cheek.
    “Because I wasn’t. I heard you were all here when I called and checked in with Emma.”
     Debbie gathered her sandy blonde hair into a ponytail and secured it with a tie from
     her wrist.
    Sensing an unfamiliar twinge in her friend’s voice, Tori rushed to remove any possible
     misunderstanding. “It wasn’t everyone. Just Rose, Dixie, Leona, and me for what could
     best be described as dessert therapy.”
    Debbie pointed over her shoulder to Tori’s table. “Then why do three of your four
     plates look as if they haven’t even been touched?”
    There was no need to confirm Debbie’s assessment. “Um, because three of the four prefer
     the kind of therapy that allows them to . . .
talk
?”
    “So how was your brownie, Victoria?”
    Knowing denial was futile, she laughed instead. “Really,
really
good.”
    Debbie gestured