January 8

The rest of the morning unfolded in their typical manner with Rosemary cutting out the patterns that she had previously pinned to fabric while Dottie sat at the sewing machine, the calm whirling filling the shop and sealing them both in their element. She held up fabric to be cut and glimpsed from under her lashes at her business partner. Yes, Dottie was definitely more lighthearted after their little talk, but her eyes still held shadows under them and more than once she had watched curiously as Dottie peered out the window with a suspicious expression. Almost as if she were expecting someone. Whatever could that be about?

"Well, I'm finished." Dottie's voice echoed from behind the sewing machine, pulling her from her thoughts. Dottie rose and put both hands to the middle of her lower back. "I think I'll go out for a spot of lunch. You'll be okay here?"

Rosemary lifted her eyes from her patterns and realized she, too, was ready for a break.

"Yes, enjoy yourself." She said as she stood up and straightened her back. She watched as Dottie grabbed her satchel, wiggled her fingers in a farewell wave, and left the store. As much as she enjoyed their little chats, most of all she loved the quietness of the store. It was when she got her best work done. She walked over to the teapot Dottie had left half full, poured herself a cup of tea, grabbed her sketchbook, and proceeded to the table to sketch a few new designs. With the grand event of February, the Valentine Ball, just a little bit more than a month away, she would come up with a wondrous design and broadcast it all over Hope Valley. Before they knew it, their shop would be brimming with orders and customers. It was necessary for her to capitalize on the holiday events by bringing in more business to help the store stay above its debt. Goodness knows they paid a pretty penny for rent. Speaking of that, Abigail would be dropping in anytime for the rent for this month. Maybe if she had a sketch ready she could convince the Mayor to buy a new dress for the ball, perhaps to appease the dear Pastor. She sighed. Abigail was one of her least willing customers. She'd ordered only one plain frock the entire time she had been employed as the dress designer at the shop. Imagine that- one frock! What she wouldn't do to give their Mayor a bit of sparkle and glam. She sketched the idea that popped into her head- a dress of silk taffeta in a pale pink offset with cream Belgium lace and silk ribbons. Maybe even a section of pearling on the bodice. Oh yes, that would be wondrous.

"I'm here to pick up an order." A dark voice said just over her shoulder.

She jumped, causing her pencil to scrape across her beautiful sketch. Who was this stranger, and why didn't she hear the bell ring? Perhaps she was too distracted. She rose and straightened, her eyes taking in the stranger before her.

"Well, Mr…? "

"Fife."

"Mr. Fife, if you would follow me, I will locate your order and get it right out for you."

He quirked an eyebrow. "Okay."

"Was it a gentleman's suit we prepared for you, I know we have one of those in the back" her eyes roamed his rough clothes, "or was it simply a repair?"

He man guffawed right in her face, his tobacco breath stirring in front of her face causing her to gag. Of all the undignified men!

"I fail to see what is funny. And when was the last time you brushed your teeth? Some of the new men in this town need a lesson in hygiene and how to behave in a woman's presence." She tipped her chin at him, her eyes blazing.

"Listen, if you don't have my order ready, I sure don't mind reporting it to the man in charge." He looked as if he was trying to threaten her, his big body looming towards hers, the whiskers on his face close enough they could almost reach out and poke her.

Her eyes went to his dusty and outdated vest. What a dreadful thing! Flinching a bit at the thought of touching possibly flea-infested clothing, she gathered her gumption and then pressed a finger to his chest, scooting him back a mite. Seriously, this man was another imbecile. How could it be that Hope Valley was all of a sudden running amuck with these hooligans? Tobacco chewing hooligans to say the least.

"Oh, so this is not your order? I will not be able to release it to you then. The man who ordered and paid is the only one I will release it to."

The man's face instantly reddened and he rubbed his jaw as if considering his options. Land sakes, this man was making a big deal of picking up his clothing. Why didn't his boss just come in the first place? And who was his boss?

"I'll let Kirill know, you— Dottie Ramsey— have been less then helpful." His voice dripped with anger.

And with that, he turned and stomped out of the room, shoving the door away in his wake causing the bell to jangle chaotically.

As the door slammed shut she managed to squeak, "but I'm not Dottie Ramsey" before toppling into the nearest chair.