Agnes
“Hold still,” I muttered around the pins that were pinched between my lips. “I’m almost done.”
“But it tickles,” Thea whined.
I sighed, sitting back on my heels to survey my work. The pink dress had turned out even better than I’d imagined—the fabric caught the light just so, and the purple embroidery along the hem added just the right touch of whimsy without being too childish. With the right alterations, Thea would be able to wear it for a few years, which was exactly what I’d intended when designing it.
“There,” I said, removing the final pin. “All done. Now go change carefully so I can finish the hem tonight.”
Thea slipped off the little platform I’d set up in my study and disappeared into the bathroom. I glanced at the calendar on my desk—just one week until
